


Next Time You Call

by its_pronounced_wiener_slave



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Biting, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Car Sex, Dominance, Dreams, Drunk Sex, Exhibitionism, Fluff, Frottage, Gay Sex, Glove Kink, Leather Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Morning Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Night Terrors, Oral Fixation, Restraints, Rimming, Submission, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-08-22 02:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 53,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8269009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_pronounced_wiener_slave/pseuds/its_pronounced_wiener_slave
Summary: What Cloud doesn't know about Rufus Shinra fills his thoughts and invades his dreams for over two years. Until one day, those thoughts become reality.





	1. Healing

The first time he meets Rufus Shinra is on the top floor of Shinra Headquarters. From head to toe, he’s perfection; blond hair without a strand out of place, piercing eyes, and a smirk that only decorates the lips of men that know they have significant power. He’s all sharp dress, impeccable speeches and bravado, and it pisses Cloud off to no end. 

“I see. _I guess this means we won’t become friends_ ,” Rufus purrs, and it almost seems seductive. The words climb into Cloud’s ear and plant a seed there.

He thinks nothing of it as he flees with his companions from the towering shadows of Midgar into the belly of yet a new dark beast. Cloud holds their hands and weaves them tales of his past so deftly that they drink them up like warm milk. That night at Kalm he doesn’t dream about the stories he’s told; they’re lies anyway. He doesn’t have nightmares about the man in black that he’s chasing, or even dream of the fair ladies he’s sworn to protect.

He dreams instead of Rufus Shinra; the cut of his jaw, the lines of his neck as his throat disappears beneath the expensive fabric of his tailored suit and shirt, the way he snarls as Cloud cuts down Dark Nation in a single violent swing of his sword. Not a drop of blood landed on that suit, he remembers.

_Why would I remember that?_

He wonders, just for a second, what it would be like to pop a button from that double breasted jacket, then another, then another…

When he wakes the next day to strike out after Sephiroth yet again, he chases the thoughts from his mind. Belittles them. They’re nothing.

They mean nothing.

\---

The next time he would lay eyes on Rufus would be under thunderous wind and percussion. Covertly Cloud would watch him—wear the skin of an old life and perform for his amusement and surveil him; that’s the plan, at least. Rufus tosses a few rebellious strands of his hair, exposing the soft flesh of his neck. Not important. He checks his watch, impatient. Unimpressed. Cloud subconsciously performs a little harder. He keeps step with the other SOLDIERs, and when his back is turned to the President, he feels some slight panic, but only because he wants, _needs_ to keep his eyes on Rufus. To make sure they don’t lose him.  Cloud can’t let Rufus leave Junon without him.

There’s a job to do, after all.

“A token of the President’s kindness!” Heidegger snorts.  A sword.

 _It’s a good sword,_ Cloud thinks. _His taste isn’t so bad._

 _“…Cloud and his friends will show up.”_ The voice is the same, but without the velvety edge that Cloud remembers. His heart jumps at the mention of his name, but it’s only fear. It’s only fear.

\---

Again, Cloud sees him from afar, this time in Rocket Town. He can’t believe Rufus doesn’t spot him behind Cid. Over the pilot’s shoulder, he can tell that tongue is being razor sharp. Rufus is pressed to the high heavens, downright dapper, and Cloud feels something turn inside him.

As the plan falls apart and the Tiny Bronco falls from the sky, nearly taking a few heads off with it, Cloud swears he can see a smile on Rufus’ lips.

 _This time I’ve got the wings_ , he thinks.

He’ll be damned if he doesn’t dream about Rufus again that night. Running a palm across the curve of his chest, flashes of a curled lip here, an extended gloved hand there. Cloud presses his lips into the palm of that gloved hand and breathes in the smell of leather and affluence. Morning is coming. He can sense his body waking; can feel the dawn sprawling its legs and arms open. Before he rouses himself from the dream, he drags his tongue along the length of Rufus’ fingers, relishing in the texture of the leather before catching the tip of the glove in his teeth at the middle finger. He pulls, and just as the tension breaks and he knows the glove is dangling from his mouth, he wakes.

Time to get going.

\---

_This is where the Reunion is happening. Where everything begins and ends._

Not a lot Cloud can remember from this time in his life; from anything that happened at the Northern Crater. Sephiroth was like a virus, a parasite within that he couldn’t dig out. He was as real as his own flesh, and yet an invader. He can’t trust many of his memories from this time. He can’t trust much. But, he does remember that he warned Rufus, he tried to push him away. All of them. He remembers watching them run. He remembers the void where a man named Cloud used to be, and that void is why he’s averse to conversations that lead this direction.

Rufus, a man he thought he detested, was there when Cloud betrayed the world.

\---

The first time he sees Rufus after the fall takes him by surprise for more reasons than one. He’s surprised at the confirmation that Rufus survived the encounter with Diamond Weapon. The fact that Geostigma seems to be wracking his body makes Cloud wince a little; but it’s only pity. As Rufus weaves together ideas and propositions like fine lace, Cloud wonders what’s beneath the shroud draped over his head and shoulders; wonders if the same smooth skin and delicate lashes betray the same brutality he once knew to lie beneath. Rufus’ voice is still like honey, even after a brush with death, even as he supposedly knocks at its door.

He’s been mostly ignoring Rufus up to now, wondering for a while just how much of Rufus’ body the sickness has taken before he realizes it’s only an excuse to imagine him bereft of that crisp white suit.

Cloud knows all too well what the Geostigma looks like; what it does to flesh. Was his previously pristine face disfigured now? If he were to slip his hands between the layers of Rufus’ jackets and silk, to slip them over his shoulders and let them fall to the floor, would the swell of his chest be marred by scar and sore? Could he trace the lines of his body down to his navel, past the curl of his hip bones as they reach beneath his tailored trousers, and reveal decay?

Pity.

He refuses to help, but only just. Mostly, he just needed to leave Healen as quickly as possible.

If the dream he has that night about ripping Rufus’ clothes off and sinking his teeth into the tender curve of his neck is any indication, he was happy to find that rumors of Rufus’ survival turned out to be true.

\---

The first time they touch is also the first time Cloud loses control. In the same office at Healen is where they meet for what must be the seventh or eighth time since Sephiroth’s return was ultimately thwarted. Shinra has once again been instrumental in repairing damages to Midgar proper and thus Edge, which hums with a familiar uncertainty after Bahamut SIN reminded them that nothing good falls from the sky.

Cloud’s come to have a strange kind of feeling for this man that flirts with him on purpose, flirts with _everyone_ on purpose, it seems, and he’s getting to the point of exasperation. Rufus is always full of requests. He wants a hero on his arm, on Shinra’s arm, to gild his reputation with the public. The scent of his cologne is becoming too familiar. If he stays too long, his clothes smell of it when he gets home. Tifa and Marlene seem to like it, but Cloud hates it.

He especially hates it when he sleeps in those clothes on purpose. The dreams are more vivid.

“I can’t keep helping you.” Cloud’s voice feels clumsy, not like the President’s.

“Aren’t _I_ helping _you?”_ Flirtatious.

“The cleanup is moving along, there are no more remnants. Why do you keep calling for me.” It’s not a question so much as a demand, and Cloud is surprised by how adamant he sounds.

Rufus is standing with a hand resting on his desk, beguiling, Geostigma washed away in the same healing rain that saved Cloud from a similar grisly fate. He shifts his weight with grace, one hip jutting out in a way that makes his long coat flutter.

“Why do you keep coming?” He’s asking more than he’s letting on. “You always keep coming, Cloud. You come when called. Don’t you.”

Cloud wrinkles his nose and sucks his teeth, a noise of displeasure to hide his mounting anxiety. Rufus is smiling and it’s heating Cloud’s insides.

“Don’t make it something it’s not,” he says, but the uncertainty in his voice is too obvious for someone like Rufus to miss.

“You don’t hate me,” he responds, flat. Now Rufus is using a tone which commands. “In fact, I think you quite like me. And why shouldn’t you? You like to be led.”

Cloud wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that, but he was too busy imagining what Rufus might look like naked, wondering whether or not someone like Rufus might kneel before someone like him and—

“Cloud.”

Cloud blinks slowly, it seems like an eternity before his eyes open again, but when they do, he sees Rufus before him, eyes lidded and smile playful. Even his posture is different; he’s lithe like an animal as he shrugs his topcoat from his shoulders, then the long coat beneath. Cloud is in awe as he realizes this is the least dressed he’s ever seen Rufus, and the way his vest hugs his torso singlehandedly outdoes every dream he’s ever had about sharing a bed with the President of Shinra Electric Power Company. He still has what appears to be a brand new pair of leather gloves on as he starts to unbutton his vest. Cloud’s eyes are fixed on his fingers, but by the time he’s done with the second button, he can’t resist.

“…what are you doing,” he asks, breathless.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Rufus laughs and the sound of it, the way it makes his eyes light up and reveals the brilliant white of perfect teeth, makes Cloud feel weak. “If this is all you keep seeing me for, if this is all it takes to solidify your cooperation with the company, I’ll let you fuck me.”

Cloud can hardly believe what he’s hearing. His fists clench and he’s absolutely sure his face is flushed, but he stammers “fuck you” nonetheless.

“Yes,” Rufus replies, sitting on the edge of the desk and putting his hands on either side. The leather gloves squeak as he grips the gleaming wood. He’s very serious, although he’s still doing that thing; he’s still seducing with every word, flirting with every movement. “Unless that’s _not_ what you want.”

Cloud is still. Everything has been a blur since Sephiroth resurfaced and he hasn’t had a moment’s rest or relief in the weeks that have passed. He should leave. He should. But when he closes his eyes he still sees Rufus there, like a habit he can’t break. He stays.

“Won’t your suits have something to say about it?”

“I issue orders to them, not the other way around. They’re close. But not too close.” He tips is head to one side, letting loose a few strands of hair that catch the early evening sunlight spilling in from the window behind him. Rufus stands and walks over to Cloud, circles him like prey, stops behind him and presses a hand into the small of his back, lowering his lips to Cloud’s ear. “What about _us_? Are we close?” He buries his nose in Cloud’s hair and inhales too quickly for Cloud to register what’s happening. “ _Too close?”_

Cloud swallows and it’s audible.  “No.”

The arm at Cloud’s back finds its way around his waist. He peers down to watch as Rufus’ fingers creep up his stomach and over his chest to find the zipper at his clavicle. Rufus pulls lazily and the sound that fills the room is deafening. Cloud clenches his eyes shut and unconsciously leans his head back onto Rufus’ shoulder. _What are you doing,_ he thinks to himself.

“You’re breathing rather heavily. Are you nervous?”

“I don’t trust you,” Cloud blurts out without thinking. It’s not a lie necessarily, it just doesn’t apply here. It makes Rufus chuckle, anyway. When he slides a hand against the bare skin beneath Cloud’s shirt, trust becomes the furthest thing from his mind. Even further when Rufus puts his mouth on him; first his neck, then his shoulders after peeling the open shirt half way down Cloud’s arm. There’s a hand at his jaw, pulling him open wide for Rufus to bear down on his neck with abandon. The hand at Cloud’s shirt drifts further down, snaking beneath the hem of his pants until Cloud jerks suddenly and lets out a ragged sigh.

“Oh. How long has it been?” Cloud can tell Rufus is smiling through the warmth in his voice. It has the cadence of concern, even though that seems hard for him to imagine. Rufus kneads Cloud’s cock in his hand, turning Cloud’s head with the other so that his mouth is once again at his ear. “You _need_ it, don’t you?” He thrusts his tongue into Cloud’s ear, coaxing a whimper from him that he hadn’t known himself capable of prior to that very moment.

“ _Rufus,”_ Cloud manages through a few labored breaths.

“You do,” Rufus agrees with himself, spinning Cloud around to face him and freeing him of his shirt entirely. He removes his vest under Cloud’s watchful eye and begins to unbutton his dress shirt. Cloud must have appeared particularly hungry because Rufus stops and asks, “you want to?” He is gesturing to his shirt which Cloud is intent upon. He watches as Rufus’ chest rises and falls beneath the black silk, licks his lips as he thinks of every night he ever pictured his own hands undressing this man, and with resolve he leaps to the work. Each button he undoes faster than the last until Rufus laughs and places a hand over his nimble fingers. “Slow down.”

Cloud does as he’s told, much as he hates it, but being this close to Rufus means he can smell the man. Not just the cologne, but all the aromas that make him up; his skin, aftershave, pomade, the scent of detergent on his clothes. He is magic, Cloud is convinced, even from the first day he laid eyes on him. He slides his fingertips along Rufus’ collarbone and back over his shoulders till the shirt falls away, its gentle contact with the floor the only sound in the room. In the world, it seemed.

Cloud knows Rufus is gazing at him but he can’t bring himself to meet his eyes, so he instead roves the landscape of his body and it is more perfect than he ever could have imagined. He’s fit, leaner than he would have guessed, and he has a few scars creeping their way in pretty lines across his abs and chest. Cloud wonders if he left any of them there himself. It’s around the time that Cloud is admiring the golden band of hair that begins just beneath his navel and disappears under his slacks that Rufus shifts, placing a hand at Cloud’s chin and forcing his gaze upward.

He leans in and Cloud’s chest is in knots, he can sense panic choking him.

_Why am I so afraid of this?_

Fearful or not, Rufus’ lips find his, tongue immediately probing,  hand curling around the back of Cloud’s neck and into his hair. Just as quickly as it begins it ends as Rufus kisses, bites, and licks his way down Cloud’s throat and chest, till he is kneeling before him.

Rufus Shinra, a man who bent to no one, willingly knelt before Cloud half-dressed and is now tugging at his pants. The sight of it leaves Cloud awestruck and hotter than he’s ever been in his life. Without thinking he runs his fingers through Rufus’ hair, guileless. The affectionate gesture is somewhat lost on Rufus, who is fixated on the way Cloud’s cock presses against the inside of his boxers. With the pants unzipped and pulled away, Rufus reaches into the fly and with one movement deftly releases Cloud’s aching member from confinement. Only then does Rufus break his concentration to look up at him.

“You’ll feel better soon,” he hums, as if anyone can feel _bad_ with a man like him touching them. Cloud knits his brow and bites down a moan as he watches Rufus take him whole into his mouth. Instinctively, he twines his fingers in Rufus’ hair, trying not to hurt him as he sets his hands to work on Cloud’s balls through the cotton of his boxers.

Cloud isn’t particularly loud; in fact, he’s holding back. The sound of his own voice isn’t something he’s accustomed to hearing or letting others hear, and he’d much rather listen to the sound of Rufus’ tongue against his skin. He’s so good at it, it’s overwhelming. Eventually he releases Cloud from the vise grip of his mouth and appears to be frowning. He furrows his brow a bit in a way that Cloud finds intimidating.

“W…what?” Cloud chokes.

“How do you expect to come like this? Do you want me to fuck you?”

It was so abrupt Cloud wasn’t sure how to respond. _Of course I want you to fuck me,_ he wants to say, but his mouth fails to form the words.

“You do,” Rufus reads him, agreeing with himself again. He stands, cradling Cloud’s now overly sensitive parts in one hand. He slides behind him again and presses himself into Cloud from behind. “Go to my desk.” Cloud hobbles forward awkwardly, partly because his arousal is paralyzing him and partly because of Rufus’ grip on his groin. He puts a hand on the desk when he’s only a few inches away, and suddenly he can feel Rufus’ free hand at his throat again. Without warning he curls two of his gloved fingers into Cloud’s open mouth and Cloud nearly moans in relief over it. The smell is familiar only because of how many times he’s dreamt it. Rufus works his fingers around Cloud’s tongue as Cloud likewise works his tongue around the slender fingers. When Rufus suddenly removes them with a lurid pop, Cloud leans in to reclaim the glistening digits.

“I’ll give you more in time, just wait,” he says smiling, voice sugary and dangerous. Cloud is utterly intoxicated. Rufus slides the same hand down the small of Cloud’s back until his fingers find a place on his body no one has ever touched. Cloud grips the desk for purchase with both hands as Rufus slides one finger inside him, then another, wriggling and swirling them until his cries come out in broken sighs and hushed whimpers. Sensing that he’s losing the ability to remain upright, Rufus removes his fingers from the heat of Cloud’s greedy body, pulling his pants down to expose his entire lower half. Cloud is panting heavily at this rate. He’s bleary eyed and almost painfully hard and can’t remember the last time he wanted to come this badly.

“ _Your body is so hungry for it, Cloud,”_ he says it like an accusation but it makes Cloud’s breath hitch in his throat nonetheless. “I’ll give you what you need while taking what I want. It’s fair, don’t you think?”

He’s too tired already to answer and all he really wants is for Rufus to get on with it. He leans back into him until he can feel Rufus’ erection pressing against his ass. It’s a pleasant surprise for Rufus, who takes the invitation in spades. He hurriedly pulls out his own dick, pressing forward until he breaks into him. Cloud is a shuddering mess, he’s never felt this kind of pain, this kind of pain that feels good, and as Rufus plunges into Cloud’s straining body he folds over onto the desk, the bare skin of his chest flush against the cool wood. He hears things clattering about as he clumsily presses his hands against the surface, spreading his fingers, digit by digit. He’s trying to remain present but faltering, unable to suppress the sobs of pleasure that overtake him.

Rufus still has that one hand on Cloud’s dick, pumping rhythmically as he fucks into him with little regard for Cloud’s comfort, though Cloud loves it. He doesn’t even have time to hate that he loves it; he simply relishes the sensation of President Rufus Shinra inside him. Once more Rufus’ fingers find his playmate’s eager mouth, and the moment they curl inside him he’s biting down on them and moaning. These developments thrill Rufus nearly to the point of completion, but he thrusts forward hard and holds it, pinning Cloud to the desk and jerking him off. Only when he can feel the warmth of Cloud’s come spilling over his fingers does he plunge into him a few more times until he’s spent. He releases all of it inside Cloud’s body, thrusting lazily into his over-sexed hole until some of what he’s left behind seeps out of him. This work satisfies him.

“How do you feel?” Rufus coos, resting his hands on Cloud’s hips. He’s still draped over the desk, pretty, hair matted to his head.

He musters some strength through his euphoria, rears back on his elbows. It takes him a moment to process what Rufus has said, but he eventually looks over his shoulder and gazes into his eyes, content.

“Like I’ll come next time you call.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you can find links to each section explaining where and when it takes place in canon.
> 
> section 1; Shinra HQ  
> [LINK](http://finalfantasy.istad.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/wont-be-friends.jpg)  
> section 2; Junon Harbor  
> [LINK](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2cA3d7F7L40/UpEhyjYoU_I/AAAAAAAAEUE/IeWGT-llyNM/s1600/Final+Fantasy+VII+Screenshot+12+rufus+shinra+cloud.jpg)  
> section 3; Rocket Town  
> [LINK](http://thelifestream.net/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/RCKT32_flying_off_scene.png)  
> section 4; Northern Crater  
> [LINK](http://www.finalfantasyunion.com/glossimg/reunion.jpg)  
> sections 5 & 6; Healen  
> [LINK](http://vignette1.wikia.nocookie.net/finalfantasy/images/4/42/AdventScreenshot50.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130127002026)  
> Rufus also changes a bit, so here he is from sections 1-4;  
> [LINK](http://www.ironmanmode.com/wp-content/uploads/President-Rufus-vs.-Cloud-Strife.png)  
> [LINK](http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/finalfantasy/images/6/6c/Rufus-shinra-ff7.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20100831191620)  
> ...and section 5, shrouded;  
> [LINK](http://www.finalfantasyunion.com/images/characters/screenshots/rufus-shinra-wheelchair.jpg)  
> section 6, with slight changes (as in, no bandages present);  
> [LINK](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7FTrmuGjpS4/UzvSSk4WDSI/AAAAAAAANlA/HTGtWNJ0VXM/s1600/Final+Fantasy+VII+Advent+Children+Rufus+Shinra.jpg%20)  
> ...sections 5/6 Cloud;  
> [LINK](https://killingtimewithijahamran.files.wordpress.com/2008/06/ff-wallpaper-4.jpg)


	2. Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud is surprised to find the lengths that Rufus will go for a partnership. But that's all it is. 
> 
> Isn't it?

It isn’t that he’s _not_ tired; he’s just not been sleeping lately. Even so, Cloud stays in bed until late in the morning when he doesn’t have early deliveries, which is rare since Bahamut SIN. He’d been lending his bike and blade to anyone that needed it in the aftermath of all the destruction, and it’s surprising just how much stuff people need to move, replace, or simply find in the wake of a disaster. It’s been somewhat good for business; however his heart is too big to turn away the needy in a tight spot, so the gain hasn’t exactly balanced out the work load. This morning he has no deliveries and just a meeting with a local vendor in the evening.

It’s the closest thing he’ll get to a day off so he stays in his bed—and his sleep clothes—till half past ten.

Eventually he rouses himself from a prone position and places his feet flat on the cold floor. _I need a rug_ , he thinks, but he knows he’ll never make time to buy one. His sweatpants are a little worn but sturdy and he rubs his hands over his thighs in an effort to wake himself up. It’s been three nights since he dreamt of Rufus Shinra. Sleepless nights.

“Hey,” a voice and a knock from the other side of his closed door, “are you feeling okay today? Breakfast is cold but I can warm it up if you like.” Tifa stands on the other side, knuckles poised to toss another few raps at the door, vigilant as ever. He knows the concern is genuine and feels a little silly for having slept in.

“I’m okay, just overslept. I’ll be down in a minute, don’t worry about breakfast.” He tries to sound neutral so she won’t worry, but there was never much he could do about that.

“Alright, I just—“

Ringing from the landline phone cuts her thought short. It's Cloud’s line, which he'd decided to move to a spare room intended as office space once he started to lean more on his mobile for business. Cloud fidgets to shed the blankets that still half covered him and stands, but Tifa is already responding.

“Don’t worry, I got it, take your time. I’ll take a message!” Her voice fades as she stamps down the hall to the room designated as office space, though it was more like storage and a phone nowadays. Cloud rises and opens his door, pausing at the threshold, hand still on the knob. What he hears gives him an odd feeling and he stills so he can listen.

“Strife Delivery Service, w—“a noticeable pause, she was obviously cut off.  “Reno? …Ah, fine, is everything…? Mhm.” Brief silence. “Well, actually he’s busy at the moment but I can take a message…Oh? You want it delivered?” There was a rather long pause then, punctuated occasionally by _mhm_ or _uh huh._   “Alright, I’ve got it all down. It’s urgent? You know that costs extra…alright, alright, alright. I’ll let him know right away. Okay…..yep, thanks.”

_Click._

She shuffles right back to Cloud’s open doorway but he’s taken a seat on his bed again.

“So, this is kind of weird, but that was Reno on the phone. He has an urgent delivery, I hope you don’t mind,” she offers him a scrap of paper with an address and a name scribbled on it. “You can pick it up here, it’s the weapons dealer on Sector 3 side.” She’s quiet for a few seconds and it makes Cloud suspicious.

“Where does it need to go?” he asks, looking up at her without moving his head. She’s making a face that expresses what Cloud would describe as confusion and curiosity.

“To Healen. I know it’s kind of far…he says it’s a fairly large package, too. But the Turks always pay well.”

Cloud laughs, more a huff than anything, actually. _They pay with HIS money,_ he thinks.

“I’ll take care of it.”

\---

Once he’s fully dressed and supplied, he descends the stairs a little quickly and notices Tifa on his way out the door. He can tell by her posture she’s going to stop him for something so he slows down, anticipating.

“Will you make it back in time to meet the vendor tonight?” She knits her brow a bit, concerned.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got plenty of time.” He adjusts the strap of his sword holster across his chest. He has a feeling he can’t describe. “Don’t wait up.” He moves past her but is stopped suddenly when she places a hand on his bicep. Her grip is formidable even when she’s not trying.

“I’m going to take the kids to the park today. If you make it back in time, you could meet us there.” He knows she’s asking, but she’s being polite, offering it, like always. His eyes meet hers and they hang there in the balance together for a few seconds.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says diplomatically and smiles, mostly for her benefit, because he still has that feeling. He’s not going to make it back in time.

\---

Outside, as he throws a leg over his bike his stomach growls, and he’s reminded that he skipped breakfast entirely. It’s now after eleven and he knows between the stop at the weapons dealer and the trip to Healen, he’ll be lucky to get the package there by two. Tifa drew him up an invoice on paper, though he’d taken to doing business digitally in recent months. Even so, he folds it neatly and deposits it in a pants pocket. There’s a convenience store down the alley which sells decent dried meats, so he stops there on the way. Fresh water wouldn’t hurt, either.

The ride is without incident. It’s a rather overcast day and he’s honestly grateful for it. He pulls up to the building and parks at the loading dock, but that’s barely what one would call it. It’s really just a battered garage with a reinforced door attached to a building that was clearly residential once upon a time. The windows were boarded up and barred at some point, likely a safe bet considering weapons are about the only thing left worth stealing nowadays. Like everything in Edge, it is dull and grey and subject to a smattering of repairs with salvaged shrapnel and parts that clearly aren’t meant for their current purpose. A neon sign with the words “GUNS GUNS GUNS” flickers comically pink in the only window not boarded.

Cloud waits outside the garage for the owner, a routine they’d worked out when Cloud told him he wouldn’t come inside and leave his bike unattended. It was a terse exchange, but clearly the loss of his business rubbed the owner the wrong way more than the slight inconvenience.

The garage door shudders and then rattles open, revealing the man he’s been waiting to see. He’s called Hyde, just Hyde as far as Cloud knows, and he saunters from beneath the garage awning with a crooked smile on his worn face. He must have been in his forties or fifties and Cloud always thought he seemed dirty; more like a mechanic than an arms dealer. He had an eyepatch, though from what Cloud still didn’t know nor care and a limp about which Cloud felt the same.

“Picking up,” Cloud says, though it’s obvious.

“Haven’t seen you in a while! Thought maybe you gave it up.” He puts both hands on his hips. Even his overalls are dirty. _What the hell is he doing in there?_

“Nah, still gotta eat. Just been busy.”

“Well,” he whistles sharply at a few hired hands that were moving boxes in the garage, “it’s pretty fuckin’ big, I hope you got some kinda rig on there. Hurry up you damn fools!” The two helpers who are also dirty carry out an oblong crate, clearly heavy, and pause at Cloud’s side. The bike is still running. Cloud points a thumb at the back of the bike and then hauls himself off in order to help. He does have a collapsible rig on the back of the bike for oversize packages. In the event something can’t fit on Fenrir he takes the truck. He detests the truck.

They strap it tight after a bit of trial and error. It adds a bit of width to the bike in terms of clearance on his left and right, but it will do. He has Hyde sign his invoices, both digital and paper, and makes for Healen.

\---

Just as he suspected, it’s near two o’clock. Healen is quiet as ever. Without the Geostigma to justify its existence, it’s becoming even more of a subdued Shinra HQ. The lawn is tailored, which Cloud finds preposterous, but it’s not surprising considering who’s in charge. The odd feeling hasn’t left him since this morning. It’s been two weeks and a day since he was here last. Two weeks and a day since he decided he may have lost his damn mind.

He calls Reno from his cell. No answer. He doesn’t want to go inside and also doesn’t want to carry the package up himself when they could just as easily come get it on their own. He doesn’t make a habit of taking an antagonistic approach with customers but he makes an exception where the Turks are involved. Petulant, perhaps, but he feels justified to a point.

He calls two more times before he decides to ascend the stairs and knock. It’s still overcast and is somehow managing to get cooler as the day wears on. He knocks loudly, annoyed.

“It’s Cloud, I’ve got your delivery,” he says in a lazy voice. He hears movement and the door is flung open by Reno. He’s taken aback as he steps inside. Across the room Rufus is perched on a leather armchair—the only piece of furniture present—one leg crossed over the other. He and Reno are quiet in that awkward way, as though he interrupted a conversation. He looks to one and then the other, suspicious.

“Hey, Cloud, how’s it goin’?” Reno asks, but he seems guilty. Cloud doesn’t respond, he just pulls his phone out of his pocket and calls Reno’s number again.

It rings.

Cloud makes a disgruntled face at him, but before he can respond, Rufus stands and dismisses Reno hastily.

“Get Rude and bring the parcel to me,” he waves him away.

“Yes sir,” Reno nods and shoots Cloud a crooked smile before shutting the door behind him.

Cloud turns to Rufus but keeps his distance. He’s sure his suspicions aren’t unfounded.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Don’t be angry with him, he’s only doing as he’s told,” Rufus implores. “It’s my order, I had him call it in.”

“Why?”

Rufus is silent, his arms crossed. He’s oddly serious, probing Cloud with his eyes in that way he did in his last life, when he was made up only of ambition, piss, and vinegar.

“I was practicing discretion. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asks, but he’s pretty sure he already knows.

“Well, since I’m positive you wouldn’t appreciate personal calls, I made an order. But wouldn’t it be odd for the president of a successful enterprise to call in his own orders? He would have people for that, don’t you think?”

Cloud feels indignant suddenly.

“Are you saying…? Do you even _need_ what you ordered?”

“No. Do people often _need_ what you deliver to them?”

He opens his mouth to reply but it's just an inhale of air. He doesn’t have a good answer. Just then, the door flies open and Reno and Rude sit the crate down against the right wall with a huff. They turn to Rufus at attention but he dismisses them outright.

“Leave us,” he almost barks it, but they're out the door immediately.

Rufus takes a deep breath, his eyes closed, and when he exhales he opens them, smiling. He looks like a different person altogether.

“Shall we?” He gestures to the door leading out of the vestibule and into the lodge itself. The feeling in Cloud’s gut is becoming more pronounced and recognizable. He knows Rufus’ office is beyond, so he agrees to follow him there. Upon opening the door, Rufus takes a seat at the white loveseat along the right wall, just beneath a matted and framed picture of the Shinra Electric Power Company logo. “Sit,” he commands. Cloud is hesitant.

“What do you have to say to me,” he asks, making absolutely sure the air is clear before he assumes any further.

Rufus ignores the question. “You seem tense. Are you always like this?” he asks playfully. The timbre of his voice makes Cloud ache. The kind of ache one comes to enjoy.

“I’m fine,” he lies, defeated. The loveseat is all right angles, form over function at its most basic. Cloud lowers himself onto it, angling towards Rufus but still as far opposite as he could manage on a chair meant for two. Today he’s got no topcoats on, only his vest and gloves, and his shirt is undone by at least two extra buttons. It exposes the few inches below his clavicle, the contour of his chest just starting to be visible, and Cloud realizes how ill prepared he is for this encounter. Those unfastened buttons weren’t due to haste or sloppiness.

“I took your advice since the last time we met. Contacted the vendors you provided and they all check out. I wouldn’t go so far as to call you a businessman, but your instincts about people are good.”

“Thanks,” he says, honestly flattered.

“The repairs on the mural are nearly complete. I hope you don’t mind meeting with me a few more times over the coming weeks to share your thoughts.”

“I still don’t think you need me for any of it and I can’t be at your beck and call,” Cloud says, informative. It’s not a lie, even if it does sound combative.

“Let me thank you, then.”

“What?”

Rufus narrows his eyes and the edges of his lips curl into a smile. It’s intentionally sultry. He reaches out and takes Cloud’s chin in his hand. The gloves are stiff and smell significantly of leather. They’re so new they aren’t even worn in and for some reason the thought makes him feel a little faint. He opens his mouth to protest but Rufus leaps at the opportunity, curling his thumb inside and onto Cloud’s tongue. Rufus is quite literally looking down his nose at him, lips parted, expectant. Cloud is overwhelmed by a desperate need to obey him that he doesn’t even understand, so instead of speaking he closes his eyes and wraps his lips around that thumb. He focuses on the taste of the leather to keep himself from fleeing in terror and embarrassment. He focuses so hard that it’s not until he hears Rufus chuckle that he realizes he’s begun sucking lazily on it. He opens his eyes to see that Rufus has leaned in so closely that he’s only a few inches away and he’s spectating with all the glee of a child at a candy shop.

Mortified, Cloud pulls away, the thumb slipping noisily from his mouth. His face is red and he can feel himself straining in his pants already. _Fuck. Fucking shit._

Rufus grips his wrist, sensing Cloud’s propensity to run may get the best of him.

“You’re quite pretty, Cloud,” he says, teasing. “Would it help if _you_ watched _me?_ ”

He sits back then, removing his vest and unbuttoning his shirt, leaving it on but splaying it open so that his abs and most of his chest are bare. Cloud somehow found it more erotic that way. He dares not stop him; he’s nearly at the point where he dares not breathe. Rufus unfastens the fly of his white trousers, unveiling the bulk of his erection as it presses against his jet black briefs. He pauses as though something dawns on him then pinches the middle finger of his glove as if to remove them both from his hands.

“No,” Cloud blurts out, clamping a hand over Rufus’ fingers. “Don’t. Leave them.” He reacts so quickly he shocks even himself. He can’t fathom what might happen if Rufus stops, if he removes those gloves, if anything outside of this room, this _chair_ , continues to exist. Everything collapses; all of his existence has narrowed to the space between these four walls.

Rufus peers at him a bit wide eyed, surprised that he’s surprised. After blinking a few times he grins.

“Of course,” he purrs.

Cloud leans back, satisfied that Rufus won’t betray his only request. The President reaches beneath his briefs, glove and all, and grips himself firmly. This is the first time Cloud gets a good look at his cock and he inadvertently swallows at the sight of it. He nearly loses his damn mind as Rufus sits before him and jacks himself off, even reaching down with his free hand to fondle himself. That hand is hidden between the pants and briefs, but his dick is in full view, especially when he has to lean back on the loveseat for stability. His neck is stretched long and beautiful like a fucking painting and he breaks eye contact with Cloud the closer he brings himself to the edge. He doesn’t moan; it’s more like shallow gasps and sighs that make Cloud feel like he’s floating a million miles up. He’s hard as stone but he can’t take his eyes off of Rufus. He wants to touch him but he wouldn’t dare interrupt. Rufus is arching his back and bucking his hips upward into his own strokes. After a sharp gasp, he arches his back further and goes silent, mouth agape and brows knitted. He comes in spurts that land in pearly ribbons across his knuckles and the view summons a pained moan from Cloud’s throat.

When Cloud has the strength to tear his gaze away from Rufus’ groin, he sees that he’s already smiling at him knowingly. Rufus wriggles up the back of the loveseat from the slouched position he fell into during his own throes. He’s about to say something snide when Cloud loses his ability to contain himself, reaching forward to take Rufus by the wrist with both hands. Before Rufus can react, Cloud is dragging his tongue across his knuckles, wedging it between the crooks of his fingers, laving up what he could of Rufus’ come while it was still warm. He takes all five of his fingers into his mouth one by one like a ravenous thing, committing to memory the taste and smell of Rufus and leather.

For the moment he has Rufus immobilized by the tiny licking sounds he's making and the little hungry noises that escape his mouth every time he comes up for air. Cloud could tell by the smolder in Rufus' eyes that this is not something he had expected at all, and he ventures a guess that he can continue to find new and exciting ways to confound him. He's half in Rufus' lap by the time he emerges from his reverie with the glove. He's red faced and needy in a much more intimate way than before and it knocks Rufus a bit off kilter. To his surprise he's kissed, and Cloud knows Rufus will be able to taste more than just saliva on his tongue.

Shortly after, as Rufus Shinra jerks Cloud off with the same gloved hand that was nearly devoured, Cloud wonders if it would be a big deal to reschedule his meeting with the vendor that day.

\---

The evening is already well underway. Cloud trudges down the steps and toward his bike, but his eyes are on his phone. A few missed messages from Tifa. He’d forgotten about the park completely, but if he hurries, he’ll definitely make the vendor meeting on time.  When he finally looks up he notices the crate has been loaded back onto the rig. Flustered, he dials Rufus directly.

“Yes?”

“What the hell is this thing doing on my bike?” Cloud demands.

“Oh. I actually think it suits you better than it does me. I hope you don’t mind my having stolen your afternoon. Think of it as payment for time lost. See you in two weeks.”

_Click._

Puzzled and a little pissed off, Cloud strides over to the crate, rips off the cords that are keeping the lid attached with his bare hands and angrily hammers one end of it with his fist until the opposite end pops up. He flings the lid to the grass and looks inside, anxious to see what he wasted half a day on.

Nestled inside and cradled by black silk rests a silver claymore with a hilt that matches the silken shroud. The design is simple but it’s obviously custom made from extremely fine materials. On one side alone Cloud spots four materia slots and as his eyes scan the craftsmanship, he stops cold. There, etched into the blade in elegant script just above the hilt are two letters; C S.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what I'm doing here but thanks so much for reading. Kudos appreciated, comments lusted after :)


	3. Familiarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud finds that this relationship may have become more than business as usual.

Rufus peels the soiled gloves from his hands and tosses them in the wastebasket near his desk. After buttoning his shirt back up, he slips his vest on overtop, leaving it unfastened and hanging at his sides. His head still feels a little swimmy since Cloud left and he fancies the sensation. He steps over to the dry bar in the corner near the window and pours himself a half glass of gin, neat. The smell of it brings him to life and he sips it for a long while, languishing in the late day sun pouring in from his window.

The door opens and Rude files in, lays a small, exquisitely decorated package atop his desk. Rufus doesn’t turn to acknowledge him; he simply stands there gazing out the window, dangling the gin limply at his side.

“The others have been delivered to your quarters, sir,” Rude says.

Rufus sighs, turns to face his desk, and sets the glass on the varnished surface. He lifts the lid on the package which is stark white and monogrammed with the craftsman’s name. Inside is exactly what he expects to see; a brand new pair of leather gloves, custom made. He immediately closes the lid and hands the box back to Rude.

“Have them cleaned professionally,” he commands.

“Sir,” Rude says, a bit bewildered. “Of course, sir but…they’re brand new.”

“Have them serviced all the same. And in two weeks, pull another pair and have those serviced as well. Make sure they don’t ruin the smell of the leather.”

Rude still seems confused but complies nonetheless. He leaves with the box in hand. Rufus takes up the glass again, turning to face the window. He smiles to absolutely no one, tossing back the rest of the drink.

\---

It took Cloud all the creative thinking he could muster to explain to Tifa why a package meant for Reno, which was technically meant for Rufus, made it into his possession. However, his made up explanation that Rufus disliked it coupled with a few well timed smiles and distracting jokes eventually satiated her curiosity. It helped when Cloud claimed that he kept it so as not to see a fine piece of weaponry go to waste.

A week later he’s still trying to figure Rufus Shinra out. Before bed, on deliveries, absentmindedly playing games with Denzel and Marlene; he has one question on his mind. Why is Rufus trying to buy his loyalty? He simply can’t believe that Rufus had a blade custom made for him, and yet there it sits beneath his bed, safe from Tifa’s prying eyes under a mounting layer of dust.

There’s a pattern emerging regarding his serendipitous visits to Healen. He sleeps soundly for a few days after. Eventually, though, the thoughts and dreams about the young President of Shinra Inc. resurface. His chest coils back into a tight knot over time until his nights become dreamless and, seemingly as a result, sleepless. He simply cannot stand the fact that Rufus has upheaved his life in such a way. He can’t stand the fact that he’s wishing the next week would merely pass as quickly as possible.

 _It’s nothing. He obviously is just waiting to spring some favor on you,_ he tells himself. He shouldn’t be getting this involved with a man he already knows he can’t trust, but other than leverage he can’t think of a single reason Rufus would put himself so far out there for Cloud’s benefit.

 _It’s not. It’s not for your benefit_. _The way he uses you is not for your benefit. The way he talks to you like he knows everything, that smug fucking smile._

Its night time and he’s been undressing for bed as he mulls the situation over. The bar is still rowdy but he usually finds the commotion to be oddly soothing. He’s been standing in front of his closet, pants already shirked to reveal boxers beneath. Unzipping his sweater vest, he slows. Thinking.

_The way he looks at you is not for your benefit. The way he touched you. The way he touched himself…_

Cloud is suddenly aware of his own heavy breathing as he recounts the events of the weeks prior. He’s already starting to forget what it felt like to have Rufus’ mouth on his dick, but the taste of him still lingers prominent in Cloud’s memory.

_The way his come felt on your tongue—_

His fingertips are grazing the underside of an erection that feels like it’s been there since the day he left Healen. He’s palming at it, really committing, when a sudden door slam makes him jump. He snaps out of the fantasy, throwing his shirt aside and closing the bedroom door. _Idiot_ , he thinks. It’s probably just Tifa rummaging around for something she can’t find behind the bar, but he throws the covers over himself nonetheless and decides to sleep.

\---

The next week truly did come and go almost instantaneously; he didn’t have many deliveries but the bar was booming for some reason or another.  People seem to be in high spirits now that Geostigma isn’t lurking around every corner.

Cloud is standing in front of Seventh Heaven, play fighting with Denzel when his phone rings. As he pulls it out of his pocket, Denzel leaps onto his arm and hangs there, nearly pulling Cloud over in surprise.

“Hey, who is it?” he asks. “Who is it, let me talk to them!”

Cloud lifts his arm high so that Denzel’s feet are off the ground and pokes him in the ribs, laughing.

“I can’t tell who it is unless you let me see it!”

Denzel squeals at the assault, letting go and falling directly onto his butt.

“You’re cheating!” he protests, but Cloud already has his ear to the phone.

“I hope you don’t mind the lack of pretense this time,” Rufus says, foregoing greetings entirely.

“I prefer things be less complicated anyway,” Cloud replies, the palm of his hand on Denzel’s head. He hasn’t shut up asking questions since Cloud answered the phone.

“Can you be here by seven? I have quite a lot I would like to run by you. There will be dinner.”

_What the fuck?_

“Ah, what do you mean, _dinner_?” Cloud was letting his mind run away with him. Rufus is laughing already. It irritates him but makes the want in the pit of his stomach quicken.

“Meaning we have a lot to go over and because I am not free until late this evening, I wouldn’t expect you to come all this way and go hungry.”

 _Hungry_ , Cloud thinks. But not about food.

“Fine,” he answers. “Just business. Nothing funny.” Rufus immediately starts chattering away but Cloud hangs up, scrambling desperately to get the upper hand with this man that is in just about every way his intellectual superior.

Cloud peers over his shoulder at Denzel who has been watching him the whole time, curious.

“Who are you having dinner with? Was that Tifa?” he asks.

Cloud nearly chokes, clenching his teeth behind a labored smile.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, nosy,” he rustles his hair with a bit more force than is necessary in an effort to defer Denzel’s interest. It works. He cackles and shouts, challenging Cloud to race him into the bar. He accepts, taking a posture as though he’s preparing to run, which sends Denzel darting off.

Cloud turns his back to the bar, checking his phone for the time. It’s already four. He might as well get ready and get going.

\---

He charges up the stairs at Healen and the door opens as if by command.  It was opened by Rude, but it's Tseng who startles him, standing on the opposite side of the room near the lone armchair.

“Cloud,” he nods by way of greeting.

“Tseng. I have a meeting with The President,” Cloud declares. He’s not sure why Tseng’s presence has thrown him off, it really shouldn’t. He’s just as much an employee of Shinra as the rest; however he’s not usually the strong arm. More the long arm type, often on assignment. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss.

“Follow me,” he opens the door that leads into the Lodge and to his surprise they glide right by Rufus’ office. Cloud follows him dutifully to a more ornate door down the hall. It sticks out from the others in that it seems to be mismatched. It’s as though it underwent some sort of overhaul none of the other rooms did. Tseng opens the door and steps aside, gesturing for Cloud to enter. When he does, the door is shut behind him and he hears a solid _click._

His eyes widen and he turns, slamming a fist into the door and yanking at the handle. It’s definitely locked, which sends him into an immediate state of unease.

“Hey, what the _fuck_ is going on here!” he shouts, slamming an open palm into the door a few more times.

“My, you’re melodramatic this evening,” a rich voice fills the air around him and it calms his nerves ever so slightly. He turns to see Rufus dressed in his customary white coats, standing beside a set dining table that somehow managed to be exquisite and austere at the same time. Actually, as Cloud probes the dimly lit room, it dawns on him that it is more than likely Rufus’ quarters. It isn’t garish or overly decorated. In fact, it was quite unadorned. His bed was in the right corner with a basic black headboard, and to the left of the table—which sat nearly in the center—appeared to be personal effects; dressers, armoir, and mirror. Beyond was a sliding door, probably to a washroom or closet.

The wall directly behind Rufus has one large, oval window, however the shade is drawn. Beside it, rivaling the window in size is yet another matted and framed image of the Shinra Electric Power Company logo.

“Is this really necessary,” Cloud thrusts a hand at the doorknob, still irritated and a little on edge.

“I can’t have you running, now can I?” Rufus asks, and he’s serious as Cloud has ever heard him.

“That just makes me want to run more.”

“Does it?” Rufus cocks his head to one side, speaking in a tone as inquisitive as it is saccharine.

Cloud licks his teeth behind his lips, drawing his eyebrows together to make his displeasure known, but still he relents and joins Rufus at the table. He removes the holster from his back but keeps it, and the blade within, nearby. He wants Rufus to know it is only a split second away. Rufus’ eyes fall to it for a few beats before he takes a seat to Cloud’s right, such that they are perched on either side of the right angle of the table. 

“Why is it so damn dark in here,” Cloud asks.

“I _am_ a power tycoon, Cloud, I don’t see the purpose in wasting as precious a commodity as energy,” he says it with an annoying grin on his face while he arranges a stack of folders and loose papers he clearly has at the table for show and tell. “You’re so edgy today.” His voice takes on a less whimsical tone. “Are you stressed?” He wittingly narrows his eyes.

Cloud swallows, knowing the meaning behind the words but trying his best to remain composed just the same.

“What do you have to go over with me that’s so important?”

“Right,” Rufus chirps, all business suddenly. “As you know, I’ve been gathering vendors; resources of all kinds in an effort to push for the rebuild of the damaged sectors of Edge. In that regard you’ve been instrumental. I am truly grateful. However, there is still a lot of work to be done. I am calling in favors from business partners far and wide to funnel money into a restoration project.”

“ _Another_ project?” Cloud interrupts, skeptical.

“I know what you’re thinking. I’m not asking you to trust my every word. Business can be dirty and you already know I’m not a perfect man. I want Shinra to mean something, yes. But more importantly, I want Shinra to _do_ something. The people trust you. They remember your name. You’re one of them.”

On this subject Cloud agreed. Rufus would certainly have a hard time selling himself as ‘one of them.’

“The Turks are given their orders and they act autonomously. Some of the aspects of this project are in their early stages and I could use your aid as a contact.”

“You want me to run errands now?” Cloud snorts, unsurprised.

“Cloud, it’s simple logistics. Shinra isn’t the massive conglomerate you remember. My man power is limited and I can’t trust just anybody.” He wasn’t pleading, not yet, but he was definitely using his most convincing tone.

“You’re saying you trust me?”

“Shouldn’t I? There was a time when we were enemies, yes, but you’re a transparent man. You’re not a liar. And you’re well connected, liked, and physically capable,” at that last remark his mouth twisted into a slight smile. “You will be well compensated for your services, of course.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Why would a smart man do such a stupid thing? It will be easy. I’ll send you information on vendors and deliveries when necessary. I’ll only give you assignments for the vendors which already have a working relationship with you. You will simply be a stand in for me.”

Cloud feels like he’s between a rock and a hard place. This verbal sparring is making it clear that Rufus has no intention of accepting no and Cloud’s not sure it’s worth it to fight his way out. Against his better judgment he concedes defeat. It has nothing to do with the pout in Rufus’ lips or the curve of his lashes.

“Fine. I’ll do it. But I can’t put my other clients on hold for you. You can at least respect that.”

Rufus throws up both hands, submitting.

“Of course, I wouldn’t dream of asking you to do otherwise. It would be bad business. Here I have a formal list of all the vendors you suggested which I decided to go with, plus the ones we will take care of in-house,” Rufus brandishes several papers for Cloud to comb over and prattles on about numbers and goals, things so over Cloud’s head that he essentially tunes them out. Besides, when he leans in to glance at them, he’s overwhelmed by the cologne he’s come to love, only love, because the smell of it means he’ll be sleeping tonight. After two weeks of agony over thoughts of unrealized release, sitting this close to Rufus is leaving Cloud unable to focus on lines of text. Without being aware of it he’s turned his face almost completely towards Rufus’ neck as he spoke, mostly in an attempt to breathe him in. The heat of his breath on Rufus’ skin shakes Rufus from his presentation. Looking down at Cloud with amusement, he lays the papers on the table. Cloud fails to notice.

“See something you like?” Rufus asks blissfully.

Instantly Cloud sits back in his chair, nearly dazed by the scent of him. “Shit,” he spits out.

Rufus abruptly shoves his chair back so that he’s angled towards Cloud and rests his elbows on his knees. He searches Cloud with his eyes; undresses him. He can feel it just as sure as if it were a hand drawing his shirt over his head.  Cloud glances down at Rufus' hands which are oddly without the gloves to which he’d become accustomed. He assumes it’s because they were to have dinner, but it’s only a guess.

Rufus catches him in the act and smiles wide, a flash of white teeth amidst the dim lighting, and rises from the table. He seems larger than life somehow as he stalks across the room to his bedside. There’s a box lying neatly on the pristine sheets that Cloud must have glazed over before when he scanned the area.

“I’ve got something I’d like you to see,” he hisses low and Cloud knows this evening is taking a familiar turn. Cautiously he approaches until he’s at Rufus’ right side. The box is a harsh white, embossed with the name of a fancy tailor that he recognizes. “Open it,” Rufus prods, gently pressing a hand into the small of Cloud’s back. The touch sends a chill up his spine that nearly takes his breath away, but he does as he’s told.

He lifts the lid with both hands, which seems necessary with something so delicate. Setting the lid aside, he inhales sharply at what he sees lying inside. A fresh pair of leather gloves; the exact pair Rufus almost always wears. The scent of the leather is pungent, causing salacious memories to hit him like a brick. Cloud glances at Rufus who nods in the direction of the gloves, silently imploring him to pick them up. Cloud touches them gingerly with his fingertips first before lifting them from the box and displaying them before Rufus.

“Thank you,” he murmurs as he takes one from Cloud and slips it over his hand, sliding his fingers in particularly slowly, and then tugging softly at the wrist. Rufus is playing with him, being suggestive on purpose yet again, and he repeats the same show with the next hand. Once they’re both on and Rufus is pulling the second glove tight, Cloud reaches out and grips a wrist. Rufus is tense, fighting him intentionally, but relents when Cloud holds his gaze. He pulls the back of Rufus’ hand to his mouth till it’s just grazing his lips and inhales through his nose, eyes lidded and mind someplace far off. Rufus slithers out of his grasp before Cloud reaches his point of no return.

“I know you quite enjoy them, but I have something special for you,” he slides a hand behind Cloud’s head and draws him in, kissing him on the mouth, sucking and licking at his lower lip. Cloud exhales loudly. He’s already decided not to fight. He can’t imagine what more Rufus could have for him that’s special.

Rufus begins an entire ritual of undress that makes Cloud burn hot under the skin. He sheds layer after layer, button by button; using his hands like an artist uses a brush. Cloud watches him intently, trying desperately to keep his breathing level. When Rufus is down to just his shirt and pants, both completely unbuttoned and unzipped, he reaches for Cloud’s hips and pulls him close, burying his face in the window that Cloud’s partially unzipped shirt leaves at his neck. He nips and sucks at the same spot and although Cloud knows there’s going to be evidence left behind, he doesn’t stop him.

Rufus shrugs his shirt from his shoulders, claiming Cloud’s bottom lip again. He breathes hot on Cloud’s mouth, teasing.

“You’re going to fuck me,” he commands with certitude.

Cloud practically growls at the sound of those words. It’s only what he’s been thinking about for weeks, technically years. As Rufus turns away, he slips his pants off. Now all that Cloud can focus on as Rufus pulls something from a drawer at his bedside table is the contour of his ass in his briefs. Rufus sits at the edge of the bed, depositing what Cloud now can tell is a vial of lubricant beside him. He beckons Cloud over, unzipping his shirt for him and laying kisses up and down his stomach. Cloud stands before him completely still as he does so, planting a hand in Rufus hair and gazing down at him, bewitched. Kisses turn to languid licks as he unfastens Cloud’s fly, tracing the lines of his hip bones well beyond the boundary of his trousers. Suddenly he rears back, leaving Cloud’s pants to sag half way down his thighs. What he says next makes Cloud see stars.

“I’m all yours.”

He lies back flat on the bed, snaking his hands across his belly and chest, enticing. The sight of it is beyond exquisite; the black leather is brilliant against his skin and his cock swells beneath his briefs every few seconds. Devoid of rational thought, Cloud reaches forward with both hands and peels them from Rufus’ body, slowly, exposing him in full. He pauses about mid-thigh, leaning over Rufus and admiring the length of him quivering there. He's considering wrapping his lips around the head of his cock when gloved fingers coil elegantly around it. Cloud exhales onto him, the heat of it causing Rufus to expel a close-lipped moan. There's just something thrillingly erotic about those black fingers stroking the underside of his dick and his thumb rubbing the head of his cock. Watching Rufus touch himself breaks Cloud into a million little hungry pieces that seemingly no other person can put back together. He presses his tongue to Rufus’ balls and drags it up the length of his cock and over the knuckles of his fingers, lapping at the slit and tasting him finally.

This coaxes a sudden inhale from Rufus through a bitten lip. Cloud looks up instantly and to his complete surprise, Rufus has his other fingers tugging at his nipple.  At once, Cloud pulls the briefs down Rufus’ legs and tosses them, wriggles his pants off completely and reaches inside the fly of his boxers to unburden his own cock. He doesn’t even bother to slip his shirt off; it dangles at his sides as he climbs onto the bed one knee at a time between Rufus’ now parted legs. Rufus is smiling at him, inviting. There’s a glint in his eyes that makes Cloud feel sure he’s hiding something but he doesn’t care. He snatches the vial from beside Rufus and coats several fingers with it. When those fingers find Rufus’ center, he really sees fireworks. His body is so tight it’s almost as if it’s pulling him in, the way Rufus himself draws him in, and Cloud suddenly feels oddly out of control. Rufus rocks into Cloud’s touch; his mischievous smile now resembles a lethal sneer. His hands are still skillfully caressing his own body, a weakness of Cloud’s that he’s already pinpointed and learned to exploit.

Cloud rips his fingers from Rufus’ body with an obscene squelch and hastily squeezes lubricant onto his dick. He draws a clenched fist down his cock and positions his head at Rufus’ entrance, effortlessly penetrating the ring of muscle with his first stroke. Rufus arches his back as Cloud presses inside him, murmuring, “ _Good boy_ ,” when their bodies are finally flush.

Without warning Cloud sobs in response, the combination of Rufus’ body sealed around him and those words still drifting about in his brain made him light headed. He lifts one of Rufus’ legs with the crook of his arm, placing his other hand on the bed beside him. He hovers over him, eyes dark as he snaps his hips in a rhythm that’s bringing him to his zenith faster than he expected. Rufus is moaning but Cloud’s not sure how much of it is real and how much is for show, because if his body is any indication he is still in complete control. Rufus slides a hand up his own neck, over his own jaw, and curls his index and middle fingers into his mouth. He moans into them, eyes still locked with Cloud, hips still undulating to the same rhythm.

Cloud’s jaw goes slack at the sight. His eyes are fixed on Rufus lips as he slides the gloved fingers in and then out repeatedly. Cloud tries to speak but all he can get out is, “ _Rufus, Rufus.”_

Mercifully, Rufus reaches out with his other hand and presses the same two fingers onto Cloud’s tongue. His jaw clamps shut on the digits, drawing a sudden “ _ah!”_ from The President. The texture of the leather in his teeth and the smell of it in his nose is all he needs to hammer away at Rufus until he comes. He commits the hand he was using for support to jerking Rufus off, only pulling out of him after orgasm has left his skin rosy in a way that Cloud found alluring.

As Cloud collapses beside him, forgetting that he’s quite literally in bed with Shinra, Rufus sits up, uses the crumpled sheets to wipe his come from his abdomen. He slinks over to Cloud, lying beside him propped up on one elbow. He rests his head in his hand, casual.

“How do you feel?” he asks, it pours out of his mouth thick like honey. He slides a hand across Cloud’s chest, brushing over a nipple. Cloud flinches. He tells himself not to lie.

“Better.” It’s true.

Rufus smiles and it seems warmer than usual. Maybe he senses a little surprise on his face, too. “I’m glad,” he says, making little circles on Cloud’s chest with his fingertips. There’s a feeling growing in the pit of Cloud’s stomach. Something is blossoming there that he can’t describe. He turns his head away.

“I should go.”

“No.” Rufus grimaces. “Don’t run. There is still dinner, after all,” he entreats.

Cloud fights back a grin. He swallows hard and turns to Rufus, meeting his eyes.

“What are we doing?”

Rufus is thoughtful for a moment. “Whatever you wish.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Isn’t it?” Rufus is indignant.

“So you’re saying we aren’t just fucking as a transaction?”

Rufus snorts. “Really, Cloud. The business and pleasure are mutually exclusive.”

“Are they?” Cloud fires back.

Rufus considers him for a long while, clearly choosing his next words wisely.

“I want you to come with me when Shinra unveils the repaired memorial at Meteor Square. It’s nearly complete and—” Cloud waves his hand in his face, agitated.

“Stop it, just stop it, Rufus,” he sits up, pissed off that he’s actually irritated by this chain of events. “You’re a liar.”

Rufus grabs him by the arm and the inflection in his voice was almost unreadable.

“You’ve done everything I’ve asked and I’ve at times been cryptic, yes. I am well aware that I don’t deserve help from the man that saved the world twice. But I’m asking anyway. I am _asking._ ”

Cloud isn’t sure what to make of it. He feels like a fucking fool for coming this far. _Obviously. Obviously this is all any of this was ever meant for. To make him look better_. Accepting work from Shinra was one thing; at least with that money he can improve not just his own life, but the lives of the people that actually matter to him. But he’s no lackey. The thought of cozying up to Shinra in a way that compromises his own reputation makes him feel sick.

“Don’t expect me to speak. Don’t present me, don’t do anything. I’ll stand with you on your stupid pedestal and clap, but don’t expect me to sing praises. I have a reputation to protect.”

“Ah yes,” Rufus nodded, looking away. “Good enough to fuck in private,” he said, his pride wounded. “I suppose I deserve that.” He rose, walking across the room to find nightclothes in his dresser. White cotton pants, monogrammed, and a tank to match. His chest looks fabulous in it.

Cloud is perplexed as he watches him and he wonders for a moment if he’d been too harsh. Perhaps if he was anywhere other than Rufus’ bedroom he would find that thought ridiculous.

Rufus stops short at the table, his hand resting on the back of a chair.

“Shall we eat?” he asks.

Cloud flops onto his side across Rufus’ bed, his head slack against a tantalizingly soft pillow.

“I’m not hungry,” he says, exhaling heavily and shutting his eyes. He doesn’t open them once until morning.


	4. Assignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud is given his first assignment and it's not without its peculiarities.

Cloud wakes so early he almost beats the sun. The light drifts weakly into the room in a thin band beneath the blind, leaving shadows all around. He’s disoriented, having forgotten he spent the night someplace other than his own bed. The weight of an arm draped over his middle is what brings him careening back into his conscious mind. Suddenly all he can hear is Rufus’ breathing and the maddening pounding of his heart inside his own chest.

_You really have lost your mind._

He painstakingly creeps out from under the covers and Rufus’ arm in the tiniest increments. Once he’s free, he turns to confirm that Rufus hasn’t roused but his eyes linger a while. The light is casting shadows over his bare skin in the most flattering ways; the sinewy muscles in his arm are more pronounced and his lips look fuller. The way he breathes evenly, his mouth a little open, his chest rising and falling beneath the sheets, has taken Cloud aback. He swallows.

 _Don’t_.

He gathers his things, pulling on his pants and zipping up his shirt before realizing the door would still be locked.

_Shit!_

The last thing he wants to do is resort to waking Rufus and having to deal with whatever the early morning version of him was like. He flings the sword holster onto his back and decides to take a chance. Putting his ear to the door, he turns the handle and holds. He can’t hear a sound. He pulls and to his surprise, it opens. Upon further inspection it’s clear that there isn’t a Turk in sight, so he slips out and closes the door, stealing one last glance at Rufus as he sleeps.

Healen may as well be deserted. Cloud makes it all the way back to Fenrir without encountering a single Turk. He climbs onto it, desperate for the company of something familiar; something sane. The way it feels, cool and hard against his body, brings him back to something resembling reality. Taking a final glance over his shoulder at Healen before he departs, he realizes he can tell which room belongs to Rufus.

The only one with the shade still drawn.

What are the odds their precious President would be behind a locked door with an armed man, a man who used to be a sworn enemy, with no guard or protection to speak of _by accident_? Cloud hangs his head, unable to keep himself from smiling.

_Thanks, Rufus._

This time he’s rather glad he’s been outsmarted again.

\---

Only five days later, Rufus calls as Cloud is on his way back from a delivery. Knowing he won’t be able to hear for shit on the road, he pulls off on a rather desolate highway.

“What now?”

“I have an assignment for you. I need you to deliver a parcel to your contact at Junon Harbor; the gentleman that is affiliated with the shipyard. His name escapes me, I apologize.”

“I know which guy you’re talking about. What am I delivering?”

“Files, mostly. The information is proprietary. I need a physical signature for business purposes and he’s not the sort to travel far, apparently. Some people still have reservations about the safety of the city given its trouble with _Geostigma_.” He laces the last sentence with sarcasm and disdain, like he’s talking about an inferior person. Typical.

“When do you need this taken care of?”

“As soon as possible. The faster I can move on this contract, the more amenable other resources will be. I’m sure you won’t mind if I spare you the gory details. When will you have at least one to two days free?”

“Two days?” Cloud nearly shouts. “Why so much time?”

“You’ll drop the files off with his secretary shortly after arriving. I’ve guaranteed him at least twelve hours to comb over the contents before deciding whether or not to sign. You’ll meet him the following morning for that part.”

Cloud is no businessman, but even he could tell that this seemed convoluted.

“So is it him or is it you that likes to keep shit as complicated as possible?”

Rufus was quiet for a beat, a reaction that Cloud found curious.

“You will be well compensated, as promised,” he says finally, and Cloud thinks it sounded a little terse.

“Alright,” Cloud relents, “I’ll go tomorrow after my morning delivery. It’ll take me till nightfall to get there, though, that’s a lot of ground to cover—”

“Nonsense. You’ll take the company chopper. It will cleave hours from the travel time. I’ve set you up with a room facing the coast on the main street. It’s one I’ve used for personal reasons on occasion. I’m having a digital brief sent to your phone now which will contain the entry code.”

Sure enough, Cloud’s phone chimed.

“Wait, Rufus, this is all kind of a lot, don’t you think?” Rufus was doing that thing where he talks _through_ you more so than _to_ you, and Cloud was quickly losing opportunities to protest.

“Of course not. Come to Healen at your earliest availability tomorrow. And try not to touch your stipend until you get to Junon, please. No sense in wasting money.”

_Click._

“ _Rufus!”_ he shouts, knowing he won’t be heard but wanting to get it out of his system anyway. His phone chimes again, an alert that there’s been activity on his only banking account. Alarmed, he slides the message to open his statement. His stomach lurches at the sight of the most recent transaction, a single transfer from Shinra, Inc.

_Ten thousand gil._

\---

The copter is already outside Healen when he arrives. Reno is leaning against it, fiddling with his phone as Cloud approaches.

“Yo,” he calls, sliding the phone into an interior jacket pocket. He’s his usual level of disheveled as he places his hands on his hips, shifting his weight. “I’ll be your captain today.”

“Where’s Rufus?” Cloud asks, disinterested in idle banter or jokes for the time being.

Reno quirks an eyebrow. “Not even a ‘hello?’ That’s cold even for you. The President isn’t on the premises today. Business elsewhere.”

Cloud brushes off any feelings of disappointment. He only wanted to give Rufus a piece of his mind, that’s all.

“Where can I put my bike?” he asks finally.

“There’s storage under the lodge. Rude'll come to take care of it. Don’t worry, he’s been given _very_ clear instructions to protect your baby,” Reno laughs a little harder than Cloud felt necessary.

Cloud senses movement behind him and turns just in time to see Rude and Elena trudging down the stairs of the lodge. Elena is waving and yelling greetings as though they’re old friends. She was a little too perky for Cloud’s taste.

“Long time no see, Cloud,” she said as they approached, a wily look on her face. “I’m Reno’s copilot. I hope you don’t mind!” Her sarcasm fails to have the same punch that the other Turks excel so well with.

Cloud ignores her outright, turning instead to Rude. “Don’t let anything happen to her.”

Rude nods. “I take all my orders seriously.” He looks to Reno and Elena briefly and shrugs. “More seriously than others, at least.”

Reno shakes his head, making a _tsk, tsk_ noise with his teeth. “The company is downright frigid today, good manners are dead.” He turns and yanks himself into the copter, perching in the pilot’s seat and firing it up. It roars to life, propellers spinning lazily at first. Elena files in, shouting something at Cloud that sounds like ‘ladies first,’ although it was more or less drowned out by the noise of the helicopter.

On board, Cloud straps in and throws his head back onto the headrest. As they lift off, he’s chanting _don’t throw up, don’t throw up_ , inside his head. He was assured that the ride would be a couple of hours at most and that upon landing, he’d have shuttle service to the room. It’s only once they’re half way to Junon that Cloud realizes how peculiar it is that Rufus would be away on business when it was Cloud sitting in The President’s foremost mode of transportation.

\---

On the tarmac at Junon, Cloud is hurried into a black vehicle and whisked away. He didn’t ask Reno and Elena many questions but it seems as though they’re staying in the city overnight as well. They’re picked up by a separate car as maintenance crew wearing Shinra logos fan out towards the copter. The car speeds off in a completely different direction; assumedly Shinra Tower.

The interior of the car is black, as are the tinted windows. Mercifully, the driver never drops the partisan and Cloud can continue focusing on not becoming ill in the back seat. It doesn’t take long before the driver pulls off in front of a narrow building with a bar on the ground floor. It looks exactly the same as all the other buildings towering over the streets of Junon Harbor and Cloud is grateful for something at least remotely inconspicuous. As he emerges from the vehicle, pulling his sword holster, a small bag of personal items, and the two Back Blades along with him, he realizes his proximity to the original location of the Sister Ray. He lingers for a moment, chasing distant memories as he exhales from his mouth.

The driver only withdraws from the vehicle to tell Cloud he’ll wait outside to take him to his first meeting but offered nothing in the way of direction. Cloud was relieved not to have to carry on a conversation, if he was being honest. Rufus had given him the address and passcode and it wasn’t like he’d never navigated the streets of Junon before. It was bustling a little, surprisingly, and it made him wonder if there wasn’t some manner of festival or event on the horizon. Throwing the holster over his shoulder and reinserting the two Back Blades which are sturdy and easier for travel than the entirety of their sum, he finds the lobby of the building with the bar and enters.

It’s in better condition than some of its counterparts, clearly a bit classier and upper crust. The lighting is dim and warm and the host at the service desk is neatly suited. Cloud considers having a drink at the bar later if there’s time; he could use something stiff. There’s even a bellhop at the elevator, which Cloud takes to the highest floor. When it opens, the bellhop bids him good evening, to which Cloud nods before stepping off. The hall is wide and unadorned and the rooms are set apart even wider. The bare aesthetic is not for lack of coin as the floors were a rich type of wood Cloud couldn’t identify and the runner on them a type of fabric he couldn’t identify either.

Rufus’ unit is the one furthest down and to the left, a corner unit which faces the street and therefore the ocean. He enters the pass code and steps inside. To his surprise, a light fades on automatically, illuminating a fairly compact kitchenette. Everything in the interior is varying shades of white and grey scale, clearly a place that Rufus furnished himself. Standing in the doorway looking in, the kitchenette was to the left. Straight back was a wide, loft-like space that was almost entirely window. From it, Cloud could see where the Sister Ray was once perched, giant Shinra Electric Power Company signs still flanking its base. He takes a few steps inward, past the kitchen. Minimal, but much richer than Healen. To the right is a water closet and sink, to the left is a king size bed. Cloud throws his bag down onto it and feels suddenly overwhelmed.

The scent of Rufus floats up from the bedclothes and encircles him, threatening to destroy any resolve he may have had up to this point. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, but behind his eyelids are plastered images of Rufus in varying states of impassioned throes and Cloud ambles to the kitchenette for a glass of water simply to have a task to focus on.

 _Just get this over with_.

The car ride to the shipyard doesn’t make him sick.

\---

Were the Sister Ray still located in front of Junon, the shipyard would be cowering in its shadow. It was evening now, and the office was about to close for the day. The sound of the open sea was interrupted only by the shouts of men at work with machinery that rivaled some of the tech that kept the plate afloat in days past.

The office itself is a beige building, out of place all told. A bell chimes as Cloud walks into a fluorescent haze that makes him squint. There’s a young woman behind a plain counter, also beige and dirty, clad in glasses with a silver retainer on them. Her hair is pulled tight in a bun and her features are small except for her eyes, the size of which is indistinguishable through her glasses which clearly magnify them.

He brandishes the first file before her as instructed in his briefing. “I’ve been sent to deliver this communication to Dax Schroder,” Cloud says, laying the sealed file on the countertop. “On behalf of Rufus Shinra,” he adds awkwardly, trying to summon some semblance of professional air.

She pulls the file, checks the name, glances up at Cloud. “I’ll see that he gets it this evening, Mr. Strife,” Cloud is thrown off by the use of his name. Apparently Schroder did some briefing of his own. Cloud turns his phone to her so she can sign off on the delivery, and she smiles politely. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning. Have a good night.”

That feeling returns to the pit of Cloud’s stomach as he once again rides to the apartment building. He decides to drown it in liquor; at least enough to help him sleep in another man’s bed, but not enough to keep him from waking up to do another man’s work.

He takes a seat at the bar alone and orders a vodka tonic. It goes down rather easily and he’s found in the past that dark liquors can leave him feeling even worse the next day with patches of the night curiously absent from memory. He downs three without even a word to the bartender, remembering the generous size of his stipend. He wonders if it has the pay for the job included, and the thought that it doesn’t makes him sick to his stomach.

He points a lazy finger at the bartender for a fourth and he complies. He already feels the pleasant swimming that comes with a good buzz, but this fourth drink isn’t meant for that. Every sip seems to be amplifying what he’s trying to kill; the spark south of his gut that is becoming haughtier with time. He finishes the fourth drink, thinking about all the things he could do with Rufus Shinra’s money and all the things he could do to Rufus Shinra’s body. He pays and retreats to his room, afraid a fifth may keep his back plastered to the bed in the morning.

Later, in the lobby as he’s waiting on the elevator, he senses a presence behind him. There are the occasional barflies still flitting about so he thinks nothing of it. Upon stepping into the elevator and turning around he notices that there was in fact a figure standing behind him, just out of view and cast partially in shadow due to the dim lighting. As the elevator door closes, Cloud is still trying to figure out if it’s male or female through his drunken daze. He assumed they were waiting on the elevator but when it arrived they didn’t budge.

Ambling down the hall to Rufus’ room, Cloud convinces himself it was simply Reno or Elena, more than likely sent to babysit him from afar by their boss.

 _Nosy asshole_.

Somehow he remembers the passcode. The automatic lighting comes on but Cloud fumbles around with the wall unit until it shuts off. He likes the dark; the lights from outside stream in through the wall of windows anyway and he finds it oddly romantic. He brought clothes to sleep in but he strips down to his boxers and crawls into Rufus’ giant bed, pressing his face into the cool pillow. It anchors his spiraling consciousness to something real and in the moment, and yet again the familiar scent of Rufus Shinra is invading his personal space. This time he hasn’t the mental faculty to stifle its influence.

Rufus is at his ear, his breath is close, the image of him undressing and stroking himself foremost in Cloud’s mind. He can already feel himself swelling against the sheets of the bed. He inadvertently rocks his hips when the thought of Rufus sucking on his own fingers emerges, grinding against The President's satin sheets. He can’t get enough friction and now Rufus is fisting hard at his own dick, it’s driving Cloud mad. He props himself up onto one elbow, nearly losing his balance with the sudden swish of his inebriation. He’s face first into the pillow when he reaches into his boxers and pulls himself out fully, tugging at his own cock and closing his eyes, breathing in short gasps from his mouth.

Behind the curtain of his eyelids Rufus is bare but for his gloves, and Cloud is fucking him, not touching himself; he’s pressed so far inside Rufus he’s not sure he’ll ever make it back out. Then, with a few quick snaps of his hips, he hears it.

_Good boy._

Orgasm hits him like a freight train and he releases all over the sheets of the bed, wrenching every last drop from his body that he can possibly give. He pants there for a second, propped up face down over his own mess, before lifting his head and cracking his neck a few times.

“ _Fuck you_ , Rufus.”

He rolls over to the far side of the bed, crisp and clean, and falls asleep almost instantly.

\---

The meeting with Schroder goes off without a hitch the following morning. He’s stout; an astute man from Cloud's perspective, and he assumes Rufus will be happy to have his signature. He does seem a little intimidated by Cloud this time, but he guesses that's because, other than the occasional Shinra stooge, he doesn’t see many armed civilians.

The room hasn’t been disturbed much by Cloud’s presence. He simply gathers his things when the driver runs him by one final time before taking him to the airport, putting his few dirty dishes in the dishwasher and making sure the automatic lights are returned to their original settings.

He does make a point of leaving the bed unmade.


	5. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud puts his foot down and has it promptly swept out from under him.

Rufus is sitting at his desk poring over an open file when Cloud is ushered in by Reno and Elena. It is early evening and the rays from the late day sun settle on The President’s shoulders and blond hair, gilding him in a subtle glow that makes him look wonderfully serene. The two Turks approach his desk at attention, leaving Cloud a few steps behind.

“Sir, he insisted on seeing you,” Reno says low with deference, and Cloud always thinks it sounds a little odd to hear Reno speak in honorifics.

Rufus glances up with his eyes only, still penning something in the file, and the result appears oddly sinister. Suddenly Cloud feels off balance; intimidated, as though he stands before a Rufus of prior years and not the supposedly penitent man he’s cautiously come to know.

“Was everything executed as planned?” Rufus asks darkly, the tone of it striking a chord between menacing and professional. Cloud senses a deeper meaning to the words and now wonders if he should have been more concerned with what Reno and Elena were tasked with while in Junon.

“Yes, sir. You’ll be contacted before morning.” It’s the first time Cloud’s ever heard Elena whisper and he hadn’t thought her capable prior.

Rufus gives them one last flash of his eyes, scribbling a final line in the file before closing it and handing it to Reno. “Take this to Tseng.” Reno slides the file inside his jacket, nodding. Rufus raises two fingers and points from one Turk to the other, a passive gesture for them to dismiss themselves. “Leave us.”

They float by Cloud on either side to take their silent exit and he’s left wondering the nature of everything that just occurred, the nature of everything over the past twenty four hours. Certainly if this was something Rufus didn’t want him to see, he wouldn’t have allowed it. However, there was clearly something bubbling beneath the surface that Cloud wasn’t sure he should pursue.

Rufus laces his fingers together, elbows on his desk, inquisitive. “You wanted to see me?” Cold.

“Yeah, I had some…questions.”

“About what? It appears everything is in order.”

“Well,” Cloud fumbles to find his words, at a loss. His more personal grievances seem to dissipate even as he snatches blindly for them. “How did you get my account information? And are you going to make a habit of paying _before_ each job?”

“What do you mean? You don’t receive payment until the job is complete. Those funds will be wired to your account sometime today.”

Cloud ignores the fact that he didn’t answer his first question. “Then what is this ten thousand gil for,” he pulls his phone from his pocket and gestures to it as though it actually contains the money.

“It is a stipend which you may use for any purpose while on assignment. It’s only natural for a company worth its salt to take care of such expenses.” He says that as though he’s anticipating Cloud’s next two or three questions. “As for your personal information, the Turks aren’t good for _nothing._ ”

Cloud isn’t impressed at all by Shinra snooping around in his life, but he decides not to challenge Rufus on it. “Don’t do it again.”

Rufus’ eyes narrow, then give way to a bemused smile. “As you wish.”

Cloud uses Rufus’ acquiescence as an opportunity to probe, despite his better judgment. “Were Reno and Elena also on assignment?”

Rufus stops cold, harried, and his next words issue from his mouth like a projectile. “You’re told only what you need to know. The rest is above your pay scale.”

Cloud blinks a few times, apprehensive about that response, then turns slowly and takes his leave. Outside, after Rude relinquishes Fenrir back into his custody, Cloud mulls the situation over in a desperate search for clarity. He really _didn’t_ want to know about the inner business dealings of Shinra Inc., and he certainly didn’t care to know about the details on how the Turks spent their time fulfilling Rufus’ whims. Perhaps Rufus was doing him a favor, but his instincts are reminding him the kind of man he’s dealing with.

He returns the Back Blades to their rightful place in the bike and starts the journey back to Edge.

\---

The house is empty when Cloud arrives as it’s nearly dark and the bar is crowded. The relief over dodging any would-be explanations makes him almost giddy as he trudges up the stairs, basking in the thought of sleeping in his own bed.

He doesn’t sleep, though. Not really. There’s still one week between him and his next meeting with Rufus, but since the night he slept over Rufus hasn’t been particularly vocal. Late in the night he can hear Tifa in the hall, presumably after closing Seventh Heaven, meaning it was probably around three in the morning. And here he is, wide awake and thinking about a man he shouldn’t even be seeing if he knew what was best for him.

As a matter of fact, he considers not seeing him at all the coming week. Perhaps ever, other than jobs. He wonders for a long while how he managed to justify this idiotic decision to keep seeing Rufus biweekly for thin reasoning at best.

His heart pounds heavily in his chest when he thinks about his last encounter with Rufus Shinra, The President. It was oddly detached, and Cloud is more than fearful that he’s been manipulated all this time. The feeling crushes him and he convinces himself it’s because he’s embarrassed; he should have known better than to trust this man that’s clearly using him for something he has yet to deduce. A man that uses people as a rule.

It’s definitely not because he’s been bereft of the warm, sugary voiced Rufus he hears on the nights he dreams.

Something ugly bares its teeth inside him.

_Not this time._

\---

The next morning he wakes at a decent hour and descends the stairs to the sound and smell of Tifa making breakfast. Marlene and Denzel are playing outside the bar, giving Cloud a few rare moments of solitude with her.

“Morning,” he says, scratching his ribs beneath the grey tank he slept in. He’s got nothing planned today other than some local deliveries in the evening, so he’s making a point of spending as much of his day in his pajamas as possible.

She looks up, a little startled, but smiles nonetheless. Her hands are buried in some sink water, rinsing dishes she’s used to prep a particular style of sweet pancake Cloud has come to enjoy almost as much as the kids. She’s still in a dark nightgown that more resembles an oversize tank top, dangling from her shoulders to just above the knee. It’s shapeless and yet she still manages to make it look lovely.

“Oh, hey! I didn’t hear you come down,” she dries her hands, eyes resting somewhere on Cloud’s shirt. He peers down as if to search himself.

“Do I have something on me already?” he asks, bewildered.

She reaches across the bar and pokes her finger into his ribs, sticking it through a hole in his shirt. “You’re a mess,” she laughs, and Cloud snorts amiably. She nods at the nearest barstool and commands, “sit.” He complies after pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“I feel like it’s been forever since we were in the same place at the same time!” She’s pouring batter over a portable griddle, speaking a little loudly over the pleasant sizzle. “Have you been sleeping any better?”

“It comes and goes,” he answers with the truth. “How’s the bar been?”

She sits the pitcher of batter down and turns to him, jutting one hip out, spatula in hand. “Ya know, it’s been _great._ So great in fact, I may need a favor. I could use your help with a shift or two.” She winces, knowing it’s a lot to ask after recently establishing that they’ve both been busy.

“I’ll find some time. Short-handed?”

Tifa waves the spatula around absent mindedly as she speaks. “Well, Marlene can only take food orders because she’s a little young and I still don’t want the kids in the bar after dark. I hired a part time bartender but to be honest she,” she turns to the griddle to flip a few pancakes hurriedly, “she kinda sucks,” Tifa finishes through a chuckle.

Cloud laughs, always oddly uplifted when Tifa gets a little mean. “Not everyone takes to it as easily as you do. I know I don’t.”

“Yeah, but everybody in this town already knows you,” she turns to him, again flinging the spatula around for dramatic flair. “They relax around you, ya know? You have that effect on people.” It comes out a little warmer than Cloud expects and they look at each other for perhaps a moment too long. “Besides, I need someone that can improvise with big crowds. This whole Shinra business has everyone _super_ happy I guess.” As she turns to sling the pancakes onto a platter, Cloud feels his heart in his throat so acutely he nearly chokes.

“What? What Shinra business?”

She walks around the bar and puts the platter between them, sitting in the stool to his right. “Wow, you have been busy, haven’t you? It’s been all over the news since last week. Shinra is kicking off a restoration project that starts in Junon and ends with some plans for Midgar. They’re hiring labor exclusively from Edge to try and boost the economy or something,” she shoves an oversize bite of pancake into her mouth.

Cloud’s throat is dry. “What does Junon have to do with anything?” He almost doesn’t want to know the answer.

She laughs, and it truly makes her face so astonishingly beautiful he can’t believe sometimes that he’s allowed to exist anywhere near her. However, Tifa can sense Cloud’s seriousness and she scratches her temple, clearing her throat and falling a little somber.

“Well. What else would Shinra want with Junon Harbor, Cloud? They’re rebuilding the Sister Ray.”

\---

Rufus calls his cell a week later as Cloud is in the middle of a morning workout. He interrupts on crunch seventy two of one hundred.

“What,” he answers, flat.

“You seem a bit moody. Did someone dent your bike?” Rufus jokes, the words slithering from his tongue in an alluring lilt.

Cloud is still a little winded, trying hard not to make that fact evident over the phone for fear of Rufus’ interpretive imagination. “I’m busy. Can you get to the point?”

Rufus pauses, considering, before launching into his next appeal. “I’d like to go over the details of the mural unveiling. It’s approaching quickly; two weeks from now, to be exact. If your schedule is clear this evening, then come to Healen by eight.”

“No,” Cloud answers defiantly. “No, I don’t think I’ll be coming tonight, Rufus.” He immediately regrets the choice of words.

Rufus laughs a little, pretentious. “If you’re _tied up_ ,” he flirts, “we can always meet tomorr—”

“No. You call me when you have a job for me. Just send me the time and place to be for your precious mural.”

“May I ask what I’ve done to deserve presumably all your ire?” He sounds genuine, like there’s no probing or double meanings to sift through.

“Now you give a shit what I have to say? How convenient.”

“If you’re referring to when we last met, that was merely business.” His tone was a little pleading.

“It’s all supposed to be business, isn’t it? So that’s what it is from now on, strictly.” He tried to give it an aura of finality, but Rufus presses ever forward.

“Regardless, I’ll still need to see you sometime _before_ the ceremony; you _must_ understand the need for that.”

“I don’t. But we both know you only really give a shit about yourself anyway, right? So why don’t you just take care of your plans and projects, _all_ of them. Hide as much from me as you want,” he’s struggling to disguise the ache in his chest that he wishes wasn’t there. “Don’t call me again unless it’s about work.”

“ _Cloud,_ I…”

 _Click_.

This time Cloud hangs up first.

\---

It only takes a few days before Cloud is already regretting his decision. The desire that has come to nestle itself in the pit of his being like clockwork between visits with Rufus is blazing out of control, threatening to consume him just about every night. He picks up a few late shifts in the bar more for his own sake than Tifa’s, trying to distract himself and squeeze every last ounce of energy out of his body so that it may kindly let him sleep by the time his head hits the pillow.

He flings drinks at lushes till early in the morning, shucking the groping hands of the occasional drunken admirer, female and male alike; playing both bartender and bouncer when necessary. He’s not the best flirt, but he engages in their affections from time to time in an effort to slake the lust in his body, but he’s never been the type for casual encounters and he doesn’t want anyone else anyway. Not really.

He hustles down the stairs at the start of a shift as Tifa unlocks the bar. A few regulars are waiting outside to get in and she greets them as Cloud pulls their favorite brand of whiskey in preparation. The bar opens at four but Cloud can tell already that it’s going to be a busy night, hence the necessity for himself and Tifa to man the bar. The regulars sit down and order a few shots which Cloud pours dutifully, chattering to them about nothing.

About an hour into the shift, all of the tables are occupied and the bar is at about half capacity. Cloud turns from a particularly handsy couple drinking cheap beer to toss their empty bottles in the trash. When he glances up, he notices a man at the door, entering slowly, scanning the room as though he’s searching for someone or something. He’s clad in a beige uniform, kind of dirty, like a manufacturing worker or some similar position. Their eyes meet from across the room and Cloud nods him over, walking towards the end of the bar where there were no patrons. He’s a wiry man with stringy hair, he seems nervous, and by the time he approaches Cloud has deduced that he’s some sort of special delivery service.

“Hey, you lookin’ for someone?” Cloud asks.

“Yeah, are you the proprietor?”

“No, that would be the woman over there,” Cloud points to Tifa as she’s waiting tables across the dining area. His protective nature takes over, though, and he stands upright in an attempt to appear a little imposing; like a guy that _could_ be in charge. “But most business comes through me first. What do you need?”

“Oh, the owner is a woman? This delivery is for a man, though. Maybe it’s you?” He hands Cloud a tablet with the invoice and sure enough, Cloud’s name is on it.

“Yeah, that’s me, I’m Cloud. I didn’t order anything though.”

“Sorry sir, I just need you to sign for it is all.” Cloud emerges from behind the bar, the man’s tablet still in his hand, and walks outside with purpose. Tifa calls to him as he walks past, but his mind is already out the door. There’s a truck parked in front of the bar, some half way decent automotive supplier on the other side of Edge. There are two men carting heavy crates from the back of the truck when the sensation of the other man tapping Cloud’s shoulder shakes him from his observations.

“Sir, can you just sign it and give me the tablet back, please?”

Cloud stares for a second, bewildered. “Oh, y-yeah, here,” he signs on the line and shoves the tablet into the man’s chest, distracted.

“Where do you want ‘em? They’re heavy so you may need a dolly or something.”

Cloud takes a slow step towards the men as they wheel the two crates over on a hand cart. Tifa emerges from Seventh Heaven in time to see Cloud gesturing to the men to deposit the parcels around back near Fenrir. They shuffle off after unloading the cart, leaving Tifa to peer over Cloud’s shoulder. She’s careful not to stray too far from the bar entrance while firing questions at Cloud, clearly perplexed, but his eyes are cast down at the two identical boxes nestled against the wall to the right of Fenrir.

“Cloud,” she calls after him, “what is it? What are they?”

His heart is pounding so hard he can hear it in his ears. He’s almost sure the blood has rushed completely from his face and he has that dry feeling in his throat again. Turning to face her, he swallows, looks past her. He takes a few steps until she’s right at his side, where he pauses and breathes in sharply.

“They’re rims.” The sound of the truck sputtering to life and driving off can be heard in the distance.

“Rims? For the bike?” She plants her hands on her hips, indignant, but he’s already walking away. “Where did you get the money for these?” she asks jokingly, but honestly curious.

“I didn’t buy them,” he says as he nears the open door to the bar.

“What?” Tifa takes a few quick steps to catch up. “Well…who did?”

Cloud clenches his teeth, the line of his jaw sharpening with it. He can feel her eyes burning holes in the side of his head, so before he steps back into the bar to distract himself with yet more clambering hands and sultry whispers, he endeavors to tell her this one truth and deal with the fallout later. Cracking his neck, he takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly through his nose.

“Rufus Shinra.”

\---

Cloud successfully dodged eye contact with Tifa for the rest of the night, but during closing time she had quite literally cornered him at the far end of the bar, brandishing a full bottle of liquor in her dominant hand. She’s intimidating despite her good nature, and Cloud never has the ability to withstand her questioning for long.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to lie much, even by omission, because the truth was that he’d been doing a lot of work for Shinra and the rims were probably a gift meant as a bribe. She didn’t seem suspicious so much anymore, actually a bit prickly over the situation as a whole. “ _He’s so egotistical!”_ she’d shouted, slamming a fist on the counter. She didn’t seem upset or overly surprised that Cloud had done a few extra jobs for them, just warned him to exercise caution, to which he replied, “ _of course_.”

That was the lie.

Later, in his room, after he was sure Tifa was shut in for the night, he paced back and forth, phone in hand. In a moment of pure weakness on his part, he finds Rufus in his contacts and hits send. He isn’t entirely aware of what he’s doing or what he’ll say, but he knows nothing will progress as normal in his life if he doesn’t address this _thing_ he’s been living with since he agreed to meet Rufus in two weeks for the very first time.

Despite the late hour, Rufus answers.

“Is everything alright?” he asks instead of greeting. The sound of his voice wrenches the air from Cloud’s lungs.

“Why did you do that?”

Rufus is silent for a few seconds and it’s pregnant with something. Relief? “The set on the bike now looks a little dull, don’t you think? Besides, these are more durable. If you’ll be making deliveries for me, I’d rather you have something more reliable.” He buries his true intentions in pretty words that are no longer opaque to Cloud.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

A long pause.

“Don’t send me anymore gifts. It’s strange.”

“It _is_ strange or it makes you _feel_ strange?” Rufus sounds amused, but it’s curiously tender.

Cloud knows he’s flushed, sure that Rufus can hear the thumping of his heart through the receiver.

“ _Both_.” It’s barely above a whisper.

Rufus audibly fidgets on the other end of the phone. “As you wish.”

Cloud takes a deep breath, thinking, trying to stop his lips from forming the words he knows he’s about to say. Rufus waits patiently. The agonizing warmth in his belly wins out.

“I’ll come see you tomorrow,” Cloud murmurs, soft.

“Wonderful,” he replies contentedly.

In this very moment Cloud can see with absolute clarity that whatever tethers him to Rufus is pulled taut, and it’s The President with the tether in hand.


	6. Conviction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud indulges himself in company he's craved for weeks.

Cloud stalks through the hallway at Healen after a harrowing day of local deliveries and personal resolve, fists clenched and chest tight with anticipation. He’d texted Rufus that his arrival would be later than usual as he had just too much to do that couldn’t be put off, at least not without arousing domestic suspicion while pissing off a few customers. They agreed on a time and Rufus assured him the path would be clear of obstructions, so to speak.

So he finds himself now at Rufus’ oddly mismatched door, having made his way through the vestibule and down the hall under nary a watchful eye, steeling himself for what he’s decided to do before he even turns the handle.

Inside, Rufus is seated at the modest dining table in the center of his quarters, legs crossed, facing the door. He’s clad in his customary white suit and black gloves, but the outer trench is unbuttoned, left hanging at his sides and brushing against the floor. One arm is draped over the armrest of his chair, the other he leans on the table, liquor glass in hand. To Cloud’s relief the alcohol is clear, and there’s a decanter of it sitting on the table beside an empty old fashioned glass.

“You’re quite late,” he says, one corner of his mouth drawn up in a crooked smile.

“Work held me up.” Cloud closes the door but doesn’t step forward, nodding at the setup on the table. “What are you drinking?”

“Gin,” Rufus replies. “An acquired taste, I suppose,” he looks the glass in his hand over as he speaks. “I can pull something else if it isn’t to your liking.”

Cloud walks to the vacant chair across from Rufus and sits, claiming the empty glass. “It’ll do just fine.” He holds Rufus’ gaze for a few seconds, to which Rufus responds by taking the decanter and pouring him a generous first shot. Cloud tosses it back immediately without thinking, sitting the glass back on the table in front of Rufus with a clanking thud. Again, he holds the man’s gaze, wordless, until an amused and somewhat awed Rufus refills it.

“Will you taste it this time, you think?” he asks sarcastically, and Cloud takes a more reserved swallow, savoring the spice on his tongue and enjoying the warmth in this throat.

“Happy?”

“Always,” Rufus replies, sardonic, finishing his own before pouring another. “Now, onto more pressing matters, I suppose.”

Cloud finishes the second drink. The liquor is giving him strength in places he desperately needs it, particularly because bridging the gap between banter and the bed is something Cloud has never excelled with.

“Can’t we,” he pauses, casting his eyes down to the glass in his hand, unable to look directly at Rufus. “Can’t that wait?” Cloud is anxious to say the least, but it’s nothing compared to the staggering depths of his desire, especially after the gin coats his insides and unravels his mind. He’s suddenly hyperaware of the rise and fall of his own chest as he peers up at Rufus, brows knitted in the slightest expression of yearning.

Rufus stills, too perceptive a man to let Cloud’s body language go unnoticed. He sits the glass down upon the table and stands, drawn to Cloud as a man is drawn to a flame. He blocks out the light as he looms over him, Cloud struggling to breathe evenly. When Rufus rests a hand against his face, his thumb grazing his cheekbone, fingertips brushing lightly across his jaw and neck, the irresistible scent of the leather hastens Cloud’s lust to an agonizing crest.

“Very well,” Rufus responds finally, covetous.

Cloud turns into the embrace, inhaling with abandon for the first time in weeks, exhaling hot into Rufus’ palm. Nearly wincing at the smell of it, he dares a glance up into Rufus' eyes, feeling the flush creep across his cheeks. Rufus’ eyes seem aglow in the relative darkness as his back is to the light. He wears an expression of ownership that’s both imposing and intoxicating to Cloud, a fact which terrifies him. A light caress of Cloud’s lower lip with a single thumb sends shivers down his spine.

Rufus knows what he’s doing. Always has. He runs his fingertips down the length of Cloud’s neck, which he instinctively stretches to accommodate the touch. It brings him fully into Rufus’ view and unable to hide. The fingers glide over his Adam’s apple, down his throat, and rest in the valley at the center of his collarbone. Rufus is clenching and unclenching his jaw ever so slightly, looks like he’s thinking, until he continues downward, tracing the cleft of Cloud’s chest until he reaches the zipper of his shirt.

He pulls his hand away suddenly and slips his trench coat from his shoulders, folding it neatly and throwing it on the back of his chair. Uncertain, Cloud watches as Rufus turns his chair to face the bed and sits, propping an ankle onto his knee and leaning an elbow onto his armrest. The stance was wide and exuded a familiar air of power Cloud used to associate with Shinra. He looks sideways at Cloud but gestures to the bed.

“Undress.”

The word hits Cloud’s ears as though it’s the first word he’s ever heard and last he might ever hear until the day he dies. He’s aghast at the idea of taking his clothes off before a spectator, let alone _this_ particular spectator, but what will happen once they’re off is too compelling to jeopardize. He moves before Rufus, hesitant, hands freezing as he grasps his own zipper. It’s only the gin that’s chipping away at his humiliation, a fact Rufus must have picked up on when Cloud’s color became an even deeper shade of red.

“Wait. I have something that may help.” When he rises Cloud follows him across the room with his eyes until he stops to rummage in his bedside table .

Rufus tosses the familiar vial of lubricant onto the bed, clearly not what he’s looking for, and then closes the drawer with a swift movement. When he pads back over, Cloud looks away as though he’d been paying no attention.

“Look at me,” Rufus says in an affectionate tone, so Cloud obeys. Their gazes meet for a second, only because Cloud is distracted by what Rufus holds in both hands, palms upright. A long, thin strip of black silk.

He peers back up at Rufus, the knot in his throat changing the sound of his own voice so that he could scarcely recognize it. “Is that what I think it is?”

Rufus blinks lazily and nods, a motion so subdued it could barely be seen.

“It is. Will you let me lead you?” he requests, and the meaning behind the words is not lost on Cloud. He can’t believe he’s about to agree to not only disarm himself, but cripple his very senses, all to fill the lack inside his body that he can’t fill himself. He nods, finally dropping his hands from the zipper to his sides.

Rufus places the cloth over Cloud’s eyes and around his head, tying it off rather snugly at the back. Cloud’s heart races as he’s plunged into darkness, suddenly keenly aware of Rufus’ proximity to him based on his body heat and breath. He’s left cold and adrift when Rufus pulls away, the recognizable sound of his chair scraping against the floor serving as Cloud’s only indication that Rufus has seated himself again.

“Don’t worry,” he hums. “I’ll guide you. Start with your shirt. Whenever you’re ready.”

Cloud pauses, letting the newfound darkness and the intensity of Rufus’ words sink into his marrow. He tugs on the zipper finally, the sound of it ringing in his ears. His head is a little slack, still unsure of the situation, but he peels the shirt away nonetheless, shivering as the cool air creeps across his bare skin. Goosebumps follow close behind, but it’s the familiar sensation of his nipples hardening that sets his face on fire. He grits his teeth in frustration over it, mostly because he can’t see Rufus’ reaction, though he knows it’s there. He can imagine it.

He _can_ imagine it, and something about that thought sets him at ease.

When the shirt lands on the floor with a soft clink from the zipper, Cloud can hear Rufus shift. “Good. Very good, Cloud. You’re quite stunning.” The praise makes Cloud squirm a bit, but it feeds the heat inside him. “Now your pants.”

Obsequiously, Cloud takes to the removal of his pants, unzipping them and sliding both thumbs beneath the band near his hip bones. He feels a sudden spark within before peeling them from his body, taking care to do it slowly for maximum effect. He swallows hard at the way the back of the zipper presses against his erection as the pants slide down then fall to the floor in a rumpled mess around his ankles. He steps out of them, tossing them to the side with the sweep of a leg. Patiently, he awaits his next command.

The chair creaks and Cloud can hear Rufus take a few steps closer. “Perfect,” he speaks low, sultry. Oddly, without his sight Cloud feels he can sense the gentle changes in Rufus’ voice with more clarity. “Now. Finish.” Clearly hungry.

Cloud rests a palm on his stomach for a few seconds before sliding it down and pressing it against the pulsing swell beneath his boxers. He basks in the tease for a moment, wishing he could drink in Rufus’ response, then pulls them down with that same hand; one deft motion that leaves him nude but for his own gloves. Again, he kicks them away, the action causing his cock to jounce about in a way that even startled him.

Cloud swore Rufus was holding his breath.

Rufus licks his lips, swallowing, all sounds that Cloud is sure he can hear. “You’re almost ready for me. Your gloves are last.”

Without even a split second of hesitation, Cloud bites his glove at the middle finger and draws his hand down, causing the glove to come off with a quick snap. He repeats the action with the other, throwing both of them in different directions on the floor. Rufus laughs softly and it’s laced with surprise and fondness. He takes a long stride inward, so close that Cloud can feel the fabric of his pants brushing against the skin between his thighs. He ghosts his lips over Cloud’s, pressing the middle finger of one hand into the center of Cloud’s chest.

“You certainly know how to whet a man’s appetite. Now, turn around, get on the bed, and kneel. Face me.” Rufus draws back, waiting.

Cloud turns, a little off kilter as he tries to judge the distance between himself and the bed, but he manages to find it without much more than a slight stumble, crawling onto it on all fours, trying hard not to think about Rufus' eyes boring into him from behind. He stays on all fours through the turn, tempting him, before finally rearing back onto his haunches. His arms dangle at his sides as though he’s waiting for his next order.

“And?” he asks Rufus, hushed.

A few steps closer. “Nothing. Let me look.” He’s probably at the edge of the bed.

Cloud gasps audibly at the sudden pressure of Rufus’ palm on the underside of his dick. Rufus wraps his fingers around him and Cloud lets out a keening moan.

“You even _sound_ stunning,” Rufus whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to Cloud’s lips as he squeezes the length of him in his hand over and over.

Cloud sighs. “You’re _killing_ me,” he says in a voice that illustrates just how alive he really is, making Rufus laugh yet again.

“I suppose we can’t have that,” he purrs, releasing Cloud and taking a seat on the bed. “Come,” he commands. As Cloud is leaning forward, Rufus grasps at his hand to guide him and Cloud’s pulse quickens over the sudden innocence of it. He approaches Rufus’ side still on his knees, blindly grasping at his shoulder with his free hand. The warmth of Rufus’ other hand on Cloud’s hip prompts him to throw a leg over him so that he’s straddling him.

Cloud’s never felt so sure about something that made him feel so out of sorts. He sags down into Rufus’ lap, shuddering as his balls and cock rest against Rufus’ belly.

“Rufus,” Cloud chokes out, rearing back up to readjust before he starts grinding against the President’s suit jacket.

Rufus takes the opportunity to slide a hand between Cloud’s thighs, dragging his arm against his balls and stroking his entrance with wicked fingertips. “ _Yes, my good boy?_ ”

Cloud clutches Rufus by the shoulders and sobs, gritting his teeth once more as the intense need overwhelms him. “When…when can we _start?_ ” he pleads, muscles already beginning to tense.

“We already have.” Rufus draws his hand away and leans, doing something Cloud can’t process because he’s still lust addled and a bit buzzed from the alcohol. When Rufus' fingers return, they’re slick and warm and they find their way inside the vise of Cloud’s body with tormenting ease. Rufus is slow about it, soulless, pressing into Cloud this way and that, stroking parts of him he never knew existed. His head rolls back, open mouthed and gasping with each curl of a finger.

Rufus leans forward as he plays, pressing kisses into the skin of Cloud’s bared neck. In doing so, he traps Cloud’s cock between them and this time Cloud can’t keep his hips from reacting. Rufus sucks marks into his neck, fingers still stretching him wide, but pushes his hip away with his free hand.

“ _Aghh, Rufus_ ,” Cloud hisses, “don’t be cruel… _Please_.”

Rufus is aroused by this, pulling away from the soft flesh of Cloud’s neck to look up at him, though Cloud can’t see; can only tell by the way Rufus’ breath hits his chin.

“Are you _begging?”_

The word alone only makes the already beleaguered Cloud crave more. “Yes. _Please_.” He bites down hard on his lip when Rufus twists his fingers suddenly inside of his body, helplessly wringing the fabric of his suit jacket in his fists. “ _Please, please,_ Rufus. _I’ll beg_ …I’ll beg if you want me to.”

“Lovely,” Rufus murmurs, pressing his fingers into Cloud hard so that he lurches forward. Cloud’s head hangs over Rufus’ shoulder as he struggles, moaning lasciviously into Rufus’ ear. He holds Cloud in that position while he removes himself from his own trousers; only giving him slack once his cock is free. He yanks his fingers from Cloud’s body, placing his hands on his thighs before sliding them back to clutch both cheeks of his ass. He squeezes, pulling Cloud apart in an effort to expose as much of him as possible.

Cloud inhales through his teeth, apprehensive, hands still digging into Rufus’ shoulders. He thinks he might be hurting him, but that’s as far as the sentiment goes because he certainly can’t muster the strength to stop. His breath hitches in his throat when he feels the warmth of Rufus’ head at his ass.

“Beg for me, Cloud.”

“ _Please, don’t stop, Rufus,”_ he mewls, and he thinks his eyes might honestly be filled with tears. “ _Please, please, I can’t wait any longer,”_ he gasps, legs shaking with the severity of his want. Rufus forces Cloud’s body down around his cock, stretching him open as surely as Cloud swallows him up.

The feeling overwhelms Cloud like it never has in the past. There isn’t even any pain this time, just the delicious way Rufus slides inside of him, rending him apart and putting him back together, filling the void inside him literally and figuratively. Every atom of his body is rewriting its purpose, straining and stretching to accommodate Rufus’ cock until their bodies are flush and Cloud stills, letting the warmth fill his belly and radiate out into the rest of him.  

“How does it feel,” Rufus asks, lifting Cloud suddenly and forcing him slowly back down. Rufus pins him there, tight, rotating his own hips. Cloud can feel every inch of him undulating inside and he cries out in satisfaction.

His head is limp but he nods. “ _Good,”_ he says, breathless. “ _So_ good.”

Rufus kisses him on the mouth, repeating the motions from before with Cloud’s body. The taste and feel of his tongue is amazing but Cloud draws away in order to cry out, not wanting to do so into Rufus’ mouth.

“Yes,” Rufus coos, laying his forehead against Cloud’s. “That’s a good boy. Moan for me, you sound _so pretty._ ” Rufus snaps his hips up into Cloud at a quicker pace, slamming him back down into his lap with all the strength he has in his arms. “Be a good boy and touch yourself. _Touch yourself for your President._ ”

“ _Fuck,”_ Cloud whines through clenched teeth, tearing his right hand from Rufus’ shoulder and gripping his dick like it’s all he’s ever wanted to do with his life. He pumps furiously at himself, heaving with the force of Rufus’ thrusts, feeling utterly used and under the complete control of this morally corrupt man. He throws his head back when Rufus clamps his lips around Cloud’s nipple, already completely overstimulated and seconds from being utterly wrecked.

“You feel heavenly,” Rufus says hot over Cloud’s skin, then flicks his tongue over that same nipple. “Come for me.”

Cloud’s head is still thrown back, mouth agape, arch in his back almost a perfect ‘C’ as he jerks off, toes curling. Rufus fucks into him with the fury of a man on a mission, and the next time Rufus commands “ _Come,”_ Cloud does so, and sounds rumble from his lungs and out of his throat that he never knew slept somewhere inside him. He releases everywhere as far as he knows, and a split second later Rufus comes deep as he holds Cloud down into his lap, a sharp gasp and his fingers digging into Cloud’s ass being the main indicators of his orgasm.

Cloud goes limp, folding forward to rest his forehead on Rufus’ shoulder. He can feel that he came across his own knuckles as he catches his breath, dizzy from the scent of Rufus’ cologne.

Rufus slides his hands up Cloud’s back, tantalizing, before turning into Cloud’s neck. “You can take it off now.”

Oddly, Cloud had all but forgotten about the blindfold, so he leans back and lifts it from one eye. The light blinds him a little even though it’s dim, but after a few blinks he removes it entirely. Rufus is a bit flushed and his hair is pleasantly disheveled. Looking down, Cloud can see that he came all over his own stomach and chest as well as Rufus’ jacket. It’s only on his second stolen glance at Rufus’ face that he realizes he managed to come across Rufus’ cheek, a sight which made his heart skip a beat.

“ _Shit_ ,” Cloud says, turning away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”

Rufus chuckles. “It’s quite alright. It was worth it to see you let go.”

Cloud turns back to him, feeling a sudden sweltering inside his chest. Without thinking, he leans forward and licks Rufus’ jaw and cheek clean, leaving an almost imperceptible kiss on his cheekbone. He sits back in Rufus’ lap slowly, searching his eyes, confused and yet oriented at the same time.

Cloud shrugs. “It _was_ worth it.”

\---

Cloud is leaning against the headboard of Rufus’ bed, another shot of gin in hand, when Rufus tries to bring up the mural. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed at Cloud’s feet, only dressed in his white monogrammed sweatpants.

“This mural reveal is now less than two weeks away. I know you’re averse to it, but it really will be painless, I can assure you.” He’s ardent about it, Cloud can tell, but the mural has been the farthest thing from his mind for a while now.

Cloud leans back, taking the whole of the shot nice and slow, swallowing suggestively before placing the glass on Rufus’ bedside table. He elected to stay nude, but the sheets are thrown over him so that only his torso and bent knee are exposed.

“Why did you _really_ send me to Junon Harbor?”

Rufus goes cold, and Cloud is sure he sees the twitch of an eye there.

“To deliver a parcel. Isn’t that what you do?” he answers without answering.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Rufus. I know about the Sister Ray.”

“ _Tch._ And?” He’s agitated.

Cloud’s heart is pounding and he can’t remember the last time he was this nervous, but he’s sworn not to relent. “Why.”

Rufus’ face twists into a look of utter displeasure. “I didn’t think I owed you any explanations. It was a piece of Shinra property that was destroyed in defense of this… _miserable_ marble,” he flings his arms out as if to gesture to the whole world.

“So you wish you hadn’t sacrificed it,” Cloud attacks.

“No, that’s not what I said. Of course,” he makes a fist and frowns. “ _Fucking hell,_ I wouldn’t have expected this from you.” He says it earnestly.

“Why? Because I’m naïve?”

“No!” The volume of his voice hits Cloud’s chest like a brick. “Stop putting words in my mouth.”

Cloud feels slight pangs of guilt arising, falling silent for a few moments. Rufus seems to regain his composure.

“Tell me why you need a weapon,” Cloud entreats, leaning forward. “Especially a weapon like that.”

Rufus is hanging his head, considering the question. He looks up, straight forward into the distance. Something about it strikes Cloud as melancholy.

“Don’t you understand?” he asks finally, turning to Cloud. “Not everyone is like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why does anyone need a weapon? I’ve been rendered utterly helpless by death on more than one occasion, Cloud. You? Why, you’re perfectly indestructible aren’t you. The rest of us are mired here in the dirt. I can throw money at the stars to try and move this world, to protect it. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

His bitterness comes as a shock indeed, but Cloud still feels uneasy, like he shouldn’t trust it. It’s true that the announcement about the Sister Ray was public before his trip to Junon, meaning Cloud had every opportunity to be aware. Rufus didn’t hide that fact, he just never offered it. He can’t shake the nagging suspicion that he has surrounding his night at Junon Harbor, regardless.

“So…you’re promising me that nothing funny went on when I went to Junon for you?”

Rufus shook his head. “Nothing, Cloud. I simply needed the contracts signed.”

Cloud sighs, cautiously appeased for now. He readjusts, rolling over so his back is facing Rufus.

“Tell me about your boring ass mural ceremony quick, before I fall asleep.”

Rufus leans back to look at Cloud and snorts, reaching out to rest a hand on his hip. Cloud curses that it feels so good beneath the satin sheets, and as Rufus launches into details on places, times, and speeches, Cloud makes a mental note that Rufus claims to have needed contracts signed days _after_ making a public announcement singing the praises of a partnership that didn’t yet exist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you as always for reading! kudos appreciated, comments lusted after :3c


	7. Wreckage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud stands around for a bit and is handsomely rewarded for his efforts.

“I don’t know, Cloud. It seems really strange.” Tifa quirks an eyebrow, incredulous. She’d been wiping down the bar after an early closing when Cloud decided to bring up his role in the ceremony. He put it off as long as he reasonably could; it’s less than twenty four hours away at this point. She leans her back against the counter behind the bar, arms crossed and prepared to launch a battery of inquiries that Cloud had been dreading since he agreed to take on this task.

“I know it’s strange, but I kind of owe him. Besides, I didn’t think it would hurt since everyone’s excited over the new work project Shinra is rolling out.” He was trying his damnedest to sound like he believed his own words, but even he knows this is a crock of bullshit.

Tifa tilts her head. “Why exactly do you owe Rufus Shinra anything?” she asks, a familiar disdain in her voice.

“I can’t let the rims thing hang over my head, it’s weird,” he lies.

“Well, yeah, it’s manipulative. Which is why I don’t understand why you’ve agreed to this. Are you _sure_ you want your name mixed up in… _all that?”_

Cloud’s been sitting in a stool, leaning his elbows on the bar. He’s holding Tifa’s gaze in an attempt to convince her that he’s not worried.

“I don’t think it’s a big deal, Tifa. It might be kinda good for the people to rally around it. I’ll just stand there, Rufus will talk, people will clap, then everything goes back to normal.”

Tifa turns, throwing the towel into the sink in an agitated manner. She’s relenting, but she’s clearly dubious.

“Whatever you say. But to me it just seems like he’s stepping in to _claim_ Edge again; not _fix_ it.” She shrugs and then walks to the end of the bar and straight up the stairs. Cloud thinks she’s stamping a little more than necessary, but he’s fairly confident she’ll get over it.

\---

The next day finds Cloud in oddly high spirits despite his aversion to crowds and attention. It was probably due to the uncharacteristically restful night he had, so he decides to make his best effort to roll with it. Around noon, he’s to be picked up by a car, presumably a Turk, and taken to Meteor Square. He’s already dressed and ready to go, having eaten a bit and stolen a shot or two from the bar for good measure.

When his phone rings, it’s Reno.

“Are you on your way?” Cloud asks.

“Now why would you assume something like _that?_ I got better things to do than tote your pretty ass around. I’m with the boss today,” he says it with a witting edge that Cloud doesn’t exactly like.

Cloud sighs, irritated. “What the hell do you want then?”

“Temper, temper. What _does_ he see in you?” Cloud can hear the smile in Reno’s voice and he finds that his good mood is deteriorating rapidly.

“Can you just get to the point?”

“Rude is on his way. I was told to let you know. I think you can probably figure out by whom.”

“And why couldn’t Rude tell me this?” Cloud asks with a little attitude in his tone.

“Don’t you know it’s unsafe to talk on your cell and drive?”

_Click._

Cloud looks at the phone as though it’s Reno himself, grimacing at the stupidity of the exchange that just took place. When he hears a car pull up outside, he makes for the exit and leaves the bar. After closing the door and locking it behind him, he hesitates momentarily. The car is black, pretty much identical to the one that picked him up in Junon, and he wonders if he should get in the front seat or back. As if by command, Rude’s head pops up over the roof from the driver’s side.

“Get in.” He points straight forward as if to indicate the front seat, so Cloud obliges, relieved that he won’t have to struggle so hard not to throw up.

Cloud slides into the front seat, slamming the door shut and facing forward. They sit idling for a few moments before Cloud looks over at Rude, confused. Rude is glaring at him, one hand on the steering wheel and one elbow on the center console.

“What?” Cloud asks abruptly.

“Seat belt,” Rude demands, nodding towards it.

Cloud laughs nervously but realizes in short order that Rude is quite serious, so he reaches over his shoulder and pulls the belt down, fastening at his waist. He glances back over at Rude, who seems appeased; at least enough to shift gears and put his foot on the gas.

They rode in silence through the streets of Edge, Rude deftly dodging would-be traffic jams and potential backups. Cloud was grateful for the silence; it’s one thing he’s come to like about Rude. He doesn’t waste his breath or mince many words and he seems all too eager to just let Cloud be.

Eventually he rounds a busy corner and Cloud can tell they’re nearing Meteor Square. The crowd is becoming denser as streets have been cordoned off to control or mitigate traffic and crowd flow. He whips rather suddenly into a back alley not far from the square and parks behind two identical black cars.

“You’ll be escorted to the center of the square with a few other contributors. The President will be escorted out once he’s announced.”

“Escorted? That’s not necessary.”

“He said you’d say that. He also said, _too bad.”_

Cloud scowls at him, an eyebrow raised in displeasure. Rude shrugs.

“I’m paraphrasing. Get out.” He points at Cloud’s door.

“Whatever,” Cloud answers, opening the door and hauling himself out and into the alley. He’s hurried around the corner of the building they’ve parked beside to an area where some Shinra employees in uniform are lining up a group of people that Cloud takes to be the contributors to the ceremony or the mural itself. The employees aren’t armed, not like SOLDIER, but they look official enough so he stands at the back of the line, awaiting instruction. Rude is suddenly nowhere to be found, but as soon as Cloud makes this observation, he feels a tap at his shoulder. It’s one of the employees clad in the black Shinra uniform, a woman.

“Sir, your name?”

“It’s Strife. Cloud Strife,” he says, but before he can even finish she’s already tapping away at her tablet.

“Okay Mr. Strife, you’re actually up here near the front,” she grabs him by the arm and walks him towards the front of the line, much to his chagrin. “Behind this gentleman. Here.” She positions him behind a man in a blue jacket before hurrying off to shout more orders at other employees. Cloud cranes his neck to the back of the line, wondering exactly what he’s gotten himself into and trying not to regret it.

“I’ll be damned,” a voice says from behind. Cloud turns to the man at the front of line, puzzled.

“ _Reeve?_ ” Cloud says, astonished.

Reeve smiles at him, genuinely happy from the looks of it, extending an arm to shake Cloud’s hand. Cloud takes it, returning an equally genuine smile. “How the hell have you been?”

“I’ve been good. Busy. Thanks for the offer to help before all the shit with Bahamut, you know. I meant to get back to you about it,” Cloud trails off awkwardly.

“Don’t worry about it, offer is still on the table. I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

“So…what has you here to help,” Cloud points behind him to indicate the Shinra element.

“Well, as distasteful as I’ve found Rufus Shinra in the past, I _do_ want my organization to have a positive impact on the world. When I was approached to aid in restoration, I was…I guess a little suspicious to tell the truth, but glad to lend a hand to something that gives people hope.”

“I see.” _It’ll definitely help Rufus come out smelling like a rose,_ he wanted to say.

“What about you? Organizations like WRO and Shinra have something to gain by partnering from time to time, but you? How on earth did Rufus convince you to show up to _this?”_ He laughs and Cloud can only laugh along with him, inwardly petrified.

“I’ve been doing some deliveries for him, or _them_ , rather and, ah, I guess he just wore me down after a while.” Cloud shuts his mouth before he says anything else potentially stupid.

Reeve nods, but Cloud isn’t convinced he’s absorbing any of his meaning. He’s relieved when Reeve changes the subject to his organization, though, eager to catch up with Cloud and share some details about his vision for Edge in the future. Cloud listens intently, chiming in where he could, until the Shinra employees hush them and start barking instructions on where to walk and stand when they reach the raised platform at the center of the square.

They’re only a block away and they make up the distance fast. The roundabout is crowded with people and Cloud can see that a small band is set up beside the mural which is covered by an enormous shroud. A Shinra helicopter hovers above with an attachment meant for lifting the shroud at the opportune moment. Cloud thinks it’s kind of stupid though, because it’s going to be hard enough to hear any orator over the propellers, no matter how much they project.

A path has been cleared through the crowd with stanchions but no one seems particularly interested in them as they walk single file to line up along the platform near a mic stand. Cloud’s grateful for the mic, at least. Reeve is first and Cloud falls in line to his right, and so on and so forth with the rest of the contributors. To Cloud’s surprise, Reeve takes to the mic, asking for the crowd’s attention.

He should have known that someone like Reeve might be associated with this particular pet project of Shinra’s, but he’s still surprised that he’s been given so much authority over it. He makes a short speech, nothing life altering; he’s a good speaker but not a great one. For all his faults though, Cloud finds him sincere, which he likes. He ends his speech by introducing Rufus, at which point Cloud nearly jumps out of his skin because the band starts playing Shinra’s marching anthem at full blast. Reeve returns to his spot beside Cloud, rolling his eyes at the indefatigable audacity of Shinra Sr.’s only son.

Cloud is distracted from his knowing glances at Reeve when he catches Rufus in his peripheral vision. He turns to the walkway from which they entered Meteor Square to watch Rufus approach, flanked by Tseng and Elena. His long coat flutters at his sides in a way that only makes him appear more graceful than he already is. His exquisite elegance is never more apparent than when he is on ceremony; an image Cloud knows will be burned into his retinas for the next few days, if not weeks.

As Rufus nears the platform, Cloud realizes he’s looking him; that they’re looking at each other, so Cloud breaks the gaze before it claws its way inside him and sets up shop there.

When Rufus takes the mic, it’s an altogether different experience. He’s not only a great speaker, he’s the kind that knows he’s great. He plots every word; prods it, places it exactly where and when it needs to be to make ardent love to the unsuspecting listener. He knows what people want to hear and can make distinctions Cloud’s never heard other men able to make. Even Cloud listens, rapt, as Rufus recounts the events of Bahamut SIN in their entire horrific splendor, making grand, sweeping soliloquies about Edge and its strengths and how those strengths will shape its future.

The crowd eats it up, clapping, and when Rufus gestures to raise the shroud and the helicopter flies off with it dramatically, the people erupt in cheers and chants. Cloud turns to look up at the mural, though he can’t see much, but from what he can tell it’s exactly the same, simply restored to its original glory.

Rufus thanks the contributors to the mural and praises them briefly, but as he takes his exit, stepping down from the platform, he catches Cloud’s eye and winks, smiling.

 _Bastard,_ Cloud thinks.

\---

Afterwards, Cloud is able to dip through the crowds of people milling about to take pictures and clap along to the band playing Shinra’s old marching anthem again. The tune throws Cloud off a bit, transporting him instantaneously to another time, but it’s the sight of Rufus in the distance that brings much needed clarity.

He’s quite literally a bright white spot amongst a cacophonic sea of faces, having fled from the raised platform of the mural itself to the corner where one of the smaller streets intersects the roundabout. It’s odd to see him among the people, but somewhat refreshing. He figures Rufus must be trying to launch some manner of public presence after hiding in sickness and isolation for so long, a sentiment Cloud can certainly sympathize with.

Rufus is shaking hands with a random citizen when Cloud approaches. He’s smiling, clearly exchanging kind words with the stranger, and waves the man off before turning to see Cloud beside him. He’s dressed to the nines today, outer coats and all; it’s a little chilly. Cloud is even clad in a grey leather jacket to fight the cold. It’s a little long and doesn’t fasten shut, the result of which being odd proportions that make Cloud look somewhat shorter than he already is, but it’s comfortable and he’s come to like it. It was a gift from Marlene.

Cloud plants his feet to Rufus’ right, crossing his arms over his belly and shifting his weight to his left leg so that he’s standing contrapposto. They survey the crowd together for a few quiet moments.

“The people seem glad,” Cloud says finally without looking over to Rufus. “Are you?”

Rufus inhales deeply. “I am. I’m extremely grateful for your part in this.” He looks to Cloud who is still scanning the crowd, trying to look distant.

Cloud feels a sudden tug at his neck that prompts him to look down. Rufus has reached over to take the corner of his collar between his thumb and forefinger and has pulled it, exposing the left side of Cloud’s neck and collarbone.

“I see you’re still wearing the _necklace_ I gave you,” Rufus says softly, sounding characteristically playful.

Cloud looks from where Rufus’ hand still clutches his collar and into his eyes, perplexed, until the meaning suddenly dawns on him.

“ _Stop it,”_ Cloud scolds, swatting his hand away in embarrassment that he tries to mask as disgust. It fails to fool Rufus.

“As you wish,” Rufus laughs at Cloud as he zips his shirt nearly all the way up to hide the remnant proof of their shared ardor. There’s not much he can do to cover up the flush in his cheeks, though. “I have a car on the way. I want you to get in it.”

Cloud turns to him at last. “What? Alone?”

“If you think you can bear it for a short while, yes,” he teases, and Cloud rolls his eyes and turns back to the crowd.

“Why would I do that?”

“Well, the reveal was a success, due in part to your help. This also marks the end of another two weeks.” Cloud can tell Rufus is boring holes in the side of his head with his blue eyes, but he still doesn’t look.

“We…were just together last week,” Cloud speaks low, knowing no one is close enough to overhear but self-conscious nonetheless.

“Yes, and it was wonderful,” Rufus pauses.

Cloud squints a little in agreement but he’s hidden behind the protective wall of his hair.

“However, I like to keep to a schedule once it’s made and, more importantly, I would like to show you the sincerity of my gratitude,” he lets the last few words drift from his mouth like perfume. They encircle Cloud with exquisite memories of what has been and enticing thoughts of what could yet be.

Cloud swallows, frozen, wanting to say yes but thinking of a million reasons to say no, when Rufus steps toward him, so close his chest is nearly brushing Cloud’s arm. It makes him shudder and crane his neck away just to keep from leaning into Rufus. His scent hits Cloud with the force of a damn waterfall.

“I have an apartment on the far side of Edge, Sector 4. It’s isolated, I think you know well enough why. Get in the next car. He’ll take you where you need to go.” The moment he finishes his sentence, another black car pulls up to the corner. Tseng emerges, holding the door open for Rufus as he slinks inside, then follows dutifully. It pulls off carefully through the crowd on the roundabout before taking the very next side street.

Cloud watches it disappear, apprehensive. Just when he’s about to call it quits on yet another potentially mad decision, an identical black vehicle pulls up. No one opens any doors for him. He looks it over for a moment, approaching carefully, before deciding to throw caution to the wind and open the door to the back seat. It’s definitely one of Shinra’s; the logo is stitched into the seat backs and it’s exactly like the one that took him to Rufus’ room in Junon.

The partisan that separates him from the driver is drawn shut and opaque, and for a second Cloud is gripped by dread over the fact that he has no idea where he’s going or who is taking him there. Aside from that, the realization that sickness was probably only a few short minutes away is also giving him grief. The car turns into the roundabout but takes a different direction than Rufus’ vehicle; a right. It still pulls off on the first road leading away from Meteor Square, but Cloud can discern little else.

Before long, the car stops and idles. At this point evening has fallen and is slowly giving way to night, so nothing is really visible through the tinted glass but store signs that begin to flicker to life, one by one.

He’s sitting in the seat behind the driver, straining to see details from his window, when the passenger door opens and someone slides in beside him.

“ _Shit!”_ Cloud gasps before realizing it’s just Rufus, who straightens his lapels and runs a gloved hand through his hair. The air that bursts in along with him gives Cloud a chill.

“What a relief, I thought you’d run.”

Cloud looks him over as he adjusts in his seat, feeling a little light headed as Rufus’ cologne electrifies the air and transforms the interior of the car into a completely different space entirely. It’s in this moment that Cloud realizes this is the first time he’s agreed to see Rufus without the pretense of business of any kind, and he feels a sudden bolt of panic that’s drowned out shortly by his rising appetite.

“ _Now,_ ” Rufus breathes, stretching an arm out to Cloud and grasping him by the back of the neck, pulling him into an unexpected, probing kiss. When he breaks away, he slides his hand down to unzip Cloud’s shirt. Cloud raises his hand to stop him but lets it hang there, to which Rufus responds by tugging on the zipper till it rests at the center of his chest. “There. Now I recognize you,” he continues, a seductive smile decorating his mouth.

He rests his hand on Cloud’s chest, diving into the crook of his bared neck, kissing and nibbling as his breath dances across Cloud’s skin. Cloud drops his hand to Rufus’ wrist, eyes shut and blood pumping a little hot.

“Rufus,” he murmurs, “you don’t have to do this.”

“I do,” he talks into Cloud’s neck, his words a little muffled. “I must return those lovely marks to your neck before they’re lost for good.”

His teasing makes Cloud warm in the heart, but hiding the physical evidence of Rufus’ enthusiasm was not something he wanted to endure for another week or two. “At least…make them _lower_ this time.”

Rufus smiles against Cloud’s neck. “As you wish.”

Rufus spends a few minutes humming praises as he sucks fresh bruises into Cloud’s lower neck and chest, one arm propped on the back of the seat and the other roaming Cloud’s stomach and hip.

“You seem happy,” Cloud says to break his own silence and fill the air with something other than his ever laboring breaths. “Did you really think it would go badly?”

Rufus rises from Cloud’s collarbone, meeting his eyes. His lips are a little red and distracting, somehow managing to look more beautiful than usual. “I had my reservations, yes. But your presence clearly excited the people and gave purpose to the message.”

“I didn’t even do anything.” Cloud decides to utilize the opportunity to come up for some much needed air before Rufus smothers him.

Something catches fire in Rufus’ eyes and he seems to come alive, to grow bigger by some means. “But you did. You came. And that’s your power, isn’t it?” He takes Cloud by the chin, running a thumb over his bottom lip. “They love you for what you’ve done for them. Again and again.”

The thought makes Cloud uncomfortable and he’s not even sure if it’s true. “You’re reading too much into this. Why do you care what they think?”

Rufus’ hand drops to Cloud’s thigh but he stays conversational. “There’s power in adoration, Cloud. Shinra can mean something again,” his eyes are alight in a way that Cloud finds a little threatening.

“So you want them to…love you?” Cloud asks, dubious.

“Trust,” Rufus answers. “I’d settle for trust. They trust you,” he leans in to kiss Cloud along his cheekbone, whispering in his ear. “And _you_ stood beside _me.”_

There was a version of Cloud that would have found this thought revolting not long ago, but the way the world has changed, the way Cloud himself has changed, the thought of Shinra having a hand in rebuilding what’s been lost elicits a different reaction. Perhaps he’s gone absolutely insane. Perhaps he’s under Rufus’ complete control, having willingly been a party to his own emotional manipulation.

More likely, he’s just tired.

“Whatever you say, Rufus,” Cloud says matter-of-factly, surrendering.

“That’s more like it,” he replies, all sultry and sweet, and he takes Cloud’s zipper in his hand yet again. “I’ve promised to thank you for your efforts, and I plan to.” He pulls until the shirt is almost fully unzipped before resting a palm on Cloud’s bare stomach, fingers splayed into the dips and swells of his abs. “You were distracting me today with those eyes,” he leaves a gentle kiss on Cloud’s bottom lip, teasing.

Cloud looks away bashfully, “You didn’t tell me not to watch you.” The Mako in his body always made him self-conscious about his eyes.

“I liked it,” Rufus retorts, planting yet more kisses along Cloud’s cheekbone and jaw. “You were simply captivating. I’m going to make you feel good.” His tone is changing and the pressure in his fingertips changes right along with it. He slides the hand on Cloud’s stomach to his hip and squeezes, causing Cloud to wince and turn back to face him. “I’m going to repay you for being such a _good_ , _obedient boy_ for me.”

“ _Fuck, Rufus_ ,” Cloud pants, “in the car?” He never knows exactly how to respond when Rufus starts talking to him filthy like this, but that doesn’t stop it from setting him ablaze below the gut.

“Yes, in the car. In the stairwell of my apartment building. In my bed. ” He holds Cloud’s gaze mercilessly, squeezing once more at his hip. “Where I say.”

Cloud winces again, though this time he’s not sure if it’s because of the way Rufus’ hand digs into him or the way his words do. He nods in response, though, ready to relent and allow Rufus to lead.

“Now, _hush_. You’re stressed again and you shouldn’t be.” He releases Cloud’s hip and runs his fingers through his hair, affectionate. Possessive. “I’m going to pull you apart and put you back together better. You deserve a long, luxurious fuck.”

The words make Cloud moan and shut his eyes; they’re too much in combination with the way Rufus looks at him like he’s something prized.

Rufus descends to Cloud’s chest again, unfastening the zipper so the shirt falls away and most of his torso is bare. He nips and sucks at his body, massaging the erection rising from between Cloud’s parted thighs.

Cloud is panting heavily, one hand gripping the handle on the door and the other white knuckling into his own leg. His eyes are locked on Rufus as he unzips Cloud’s pants, sucking a deep, red mark into the skin between his hipbone and navel. It hurts and tickles at the same time and Cloud can’t help but writhe beneath the pressure of Rufus’ mouth.

“You like it, don’t you?”

Cloud nods.

“Then I’ll give you more. But you have to be a good boy and ask.” He grips Cloud by the cock, rough. “ _Ask your President_.”

Cloud whines, digging the hand on his thigh into the seat beside him. “ _Rufus, shit,”_ he blurts out without thinking and it’s the wrong answer.

“No,” Rufus says flatly, squeezing hard again.

“ _Fuck_ , okay,” Cloud squirms a bit. “Please. _More_ , Rufus.”

Rufus grimaces up at Cloud before snatching his balls in his other hand, knocking the air clean out of his lungs.

“ _Who_ is your President?” He squeezes.

Cloud can hardly form the words; for some reason his throat is holding onto them, as if saying them will change anything at all. “ _You are,_ ” he hisses finally.

“Good. Now,” his grip softens and returns to kneading lazily. “Ask your President. Ask him _nicely._ ”

Cloud takes a few short breaths, heart racing, dying to press his hips up into Rufus’ touch. It was clear to him that he was still holding fast to the illusion of control even though he knew he didn’t want it; wanted to remit it to Rufus’ custody until the sun came up if need be. He looked away, shutting his eyes tight, hoping it would help him wrap his mouth around the words even through his humiliation.

“ _Say it.”_

Cloud’s head is turned so far away his cheek is almost pressed into the seat back.

“ _What do you want?”_

“…To be touched,” Cloud is able to stammer eventually.

“Touched by _whom?”_ Rufus prods. He’s not aiming for discomfort anymore but methodically stroking at Cloud’s balls and cock.

Cloud is silent, biting his lip at the thought of the word.

_“Who am I?”_

“… _The President.”_

Rufus smiles and reaches into Cloud’s boxers, touching his bare skin as he frees his dick.

“Good, _good boy._ Whose President?” Rufus tugs at him a few times, angling his lips so that the heat of his breath falls on the head of Cloud’s cock.

Cloud shudders. “ _Mine.”_

“Perfect. Now, _ask._ ” Rufus presses the breadth of his tongue to the side of Cloud’s shaft, dragging it up until he reaches the tip.

Cloud lets out a ragged gasp, the sudden shock of warmth against his skin sending a jolt of lust into his core that nearly chokes him.

“ _Please,_ _touch me President,”_ he can’t tear his gaze away from Rufus now. “ _Please, I want more.”_

Rufus smiles then, stroking Cloud firmly a few more times before taking him into his mouth and sucking, satisfied with Cloud’s entreaty for more attention. Cloud mewls, relieved, having forgotten exactly how it felt to be inside the pleasant warmth of Rufus’ throat and mouth. Rufus has managed to wedge himself between Cloud and the back of the driver’s partisan; both hands on Cloud’s hips as he takes him in full, swallowing around his cock and fucking him with his throat.

Cloud is utterly helpless to even thrust; he grips to the door and chair like before as Rufus controls his lower half with strong hands, digging those gloves so hard into Cloud’s body he’s sure they’ll leave marks. Before long he realizes he’s going to come, right here in this car with a stranger only a few feet away. Rufus suddenly comes up for air, saliva coating his lips and clinging to Cloud’s head.

“Who am I.” He says it like a question, but it’s clearly a command.

Cloud sobs at the sudden lack of heat and pressure on his dick. “You…you’re the President,” he says between breaths.

“ _Whose!”_ Rufus digs his fingers ruthlessly into Cloud’s hips anew.

“ _Mine!_ ” Cloud cries, loud enough that he’s sure the driver could hear it, desperate for Rufus to put his mouth back on him. “ _Mine, you’re my President.”_

“Good,” Rufus licks him from base to tip. “ _Remember it.”_ He plunges Cloud inside his throat again, sucking and swallowing with intent to send him on the road straight to his completion.

Cloud is overwhelmed by the heat, he can feel it’s close; can feel the way Rufus’ throat contracts around him and the way his tongue presses into the underside of his dick when Rufus pulls him out. It feels unreal, and Cloud can sense himself slipping completely out of control. He stands at the precipice of this moment in his mind, and before he can talk himself into backing away, he leaps.

“ _I’m gonna come for you, my President,”_ he moans, quickened by the way Rufus reacts; moaning audibly into his dick and pulling Cloud into him with even more force. Cloud is suddenly thrilled, overcome by the need to please Rufus. “ _Yes, yes, my President,”_ his pitch is high, so near orgasm he can barely think. “ _It feels so good, so good, ah—!”_ he folds over as he comes, his right hand grabbing hard at Rufus’ hair, jaw slack and eyes clenched shut as he rides the wave of pleasure to its crest.

Rufus doesn’t skip a beat; he holds Cloud inside him through his climax, swallowing him down as quickly as Cloud could fill him up. When he slides Cloud’s cock from between his lips, not a drop of come is left behind and Rufus almost looks like he hasn’t spent the better part of the car ride with his face buried between another man’s thighs.

Cloud rolls back against the seat, taking a deep breath while zipping his pants back up. He sits there with his shirt still splayed open, trying to bring his heart rate down.

Rufus pushes a hand through his hair, a bit mussed from Cloud’s sudden moment of passion.

“Just in time,” he says as the car slows to a stop. “You’ll probably want to cover up. It’s chilly.”

Cloud rolls his eyes, zipping his shirt up past his collarbone as Rufus exits the vehicle. He follows close behind, only now realizing it’s gotten very dark outside. The car leaves them alone on the curb as Rufus fumbles in his jacket pockets for the key card.

“Do you feel alright?” he asks Cloud suddenly.

“ _Obviously_ ,” he replies.

“Aha,” Rufus smiles, “while I’m sure that was quite enjoyable, it’s not what I mean. I’ve been made aware that you don’t fare so well in the back seat.”

Rufus takes a few steps away, sliding the key card into a security system that’s mounted beside a glass door on a completely nondescript building with seemingly no guards whatsoever.

“What? Is that what all the dirty talk was for?” Cloud gestures behind him to the car that isn’t there anymore. “A distraction?” He follows Rufus into the building and up a dark stairwell, remembering suddenly what Rufus had said in the car.

Rufus stops short and turns, looking down at him. “Well, did it work? Or is a grown man about to vomit on my very expensive carpet?”

Cloud furrows his eyebrows. “I’m _fine_.”

“Good. I’ve given explicit instructions that you’re to sit in the front seat on all Shinra escorted missions from now on,” he says it proudly, turning to ascend the stairs again.

“ _What?_ Why would you do that!”

He stops, turns, descends a few more stairs. “I thought you would be _happy_ , silly me.”

“So you’re saying they all definitely know about. _This_.” Cloud points to himself and then to Rufus.

“Only what they need to know.”

“ _Shit._ Great.”

Rufus shakes his head, a little gloomy. “Not all of us like to run and hide, Cloud.” He turns finally and ascends the stairs.

Cloud hesitates, feeling guilty again for some reason he can’t quite grasp, but trudges up the stairs after him.

When he enters the unit, it’s dark. Rufus is already peeling layers of clothing off across the room in front of a large window that faces the moon. Cloud can’t see much detail, but it seems to be loft style; not dissimilar from the apartment in Junon, actually. He steps into the main room, a few feet from Rufus who has tossed both jackets onto a nearby armchair and is unbuttoning his vest.

“You can take all that off, of course,” he says conversationally.

“Are you serious?”

“I’m not done with you, Cloud. Not even close.”

Cloud pulls his jacket off and tosses it onto the same chair with Rufus’ coats, remembering his words from the car once more.

_Where I say._

He can’t really imagine coming again in one night, but he’s still aroused by the thought of touching and being touched, so he removes his shirt, shoes, pants, and gloves, leaving his boxers for Rufus to pull off of him as he crawls backwards onto his bed.

“I don’t want to fuck you this way,” Rufus says softly. “Turn over.”

Cloud complies, rolling over onto his belly and burying his face into the bed. Rufus is rubbing and kneading his ass and Cloud is grateful that he can hide the bright flush on his face. Despite his recent throes, he can feel the heat in the pit of his stomach again. Rufus stokes the flames, gripping Cloud by the hips and lifting him onto his knees so his ass is on full display for him.

“Yes, perfect,” he purrs, biting Cloud on one of his cheeks. The sharp pain makes Cloud gasp and swear into the sheets, a reaction which pleases Rufus. “You’re almost ready.”

He’s gone for a moment and returns to the bed, placing a hand on Cloud’s ass and pulling him apart, squeezing lubricant directly onto him. The sudden cold against such a sensitive area makes him shudder, a feeling which melts away when Rufus’ fingers find him. Cloud can tell by the sensation that Rufus has left the gloves on and he can’t keep a smile from creeping across his lips.

“Don’t forget who I am,” he reminds Cloud, adding a third finger and twisting the three of them in a series of motions that causes Cloud to want to sag further into the bed and lift his body up into the wriggling digits at the same time.

He can feel his dick getting hard again already. Rufus is fully determined to wreck him, so he’s decided to allow himself to be thoroughly wrecked. He moans unfettered into the sheets, turning back to try and see Rufus as best he can.

“ _You’re so good to me, my President,”_ he whispers, and he can see the way Rufus clenches his jaw, feel the way his free hand digs a little harder into his ass.

Rufus pulls his fingers from Cloud’s body and removes his cock from his already unfastened slacks. “My good boy gets _everything._ ”

He presses into Cloud’s entrance with his head, pushing inside in increments, giving him a few moments to adjust, but to his surprise Cloud rears back, hungry for it; inviting it in a way he hasn’t before.

In a matter of seconds, Rufus is flush against Cloud’s ass.

“It’s good that you want it,” he speaks low and rich, not thrusting so much as he is controlling Cloud by the hips. He’s deliberate about it; fucking a hole nice and wide into Cloud’s center so that he’ll know for days what it felt like to have Rufus inside him. Cloud clutches the bedsheets, whimpering under the moonlight as Rufus rotates his hips in circles and plunges inside him, stretching him perhaps further than he’s ever been.

“I’m going to make you feel so good, Cloud. I’m going to fuck you raw and senseless, and when you don’t think you can take anymore, I’m going to give you more.” He leans forward to reach down and grasp Cloud’s neck from behind; giving a little squeeze that makes Cloud moan unintelligibly. Dragging his hand up Cloud’s back, he returns it to his hip. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t remember my name. Until you can’t remember your own.”

“ _Ngh,_ _yes sir,”_ Cloud groans as Rufus pulls out of him, leaving him feeling absolutely empty.

“Mm, I like that,” he growls, and he bites Cloud’s right cheek hard, leaving marks. A sharp cry fills the room as Cloud reacts, curling his toes and twisting the sheets in his hands.

“Why did you stop?” he pleads.

“ _Hush_ ,” Rufus commands, planting a hand on either one of Cloud’s cheeks. Cloud’s breath hitches in his throat as he feels Rufus pull him open with his thumbs and breathe hot onto his hole.

He’s stretched open so wide, he’s sure Rufus can see straight down inside him. Rufus runs his tongue along the outer rim, making little circles around it before pressing his tongue inside.

Cloud nearly screams. He wants to protest but has never felt anything like it. His pleasure immobilizes him to the point that sound can’t even escape his throat. Rufus licks and sucks at his hole as though it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do, and when Cloud regains some semblance of composure he rocks back into Rufus’ mouth.

After a long while of probing Cloud with his tongue, Rufus withdraws, shoving his two fingers back inside Cloud’s body, pulling and stretching him even more, thrusting his tongue inside and licking at the swollen red rim when he buries his fingers so deep they’re all the way to the knuckles. When he pulls them out, Cloud is stretched so far agape that Rufus grabs the lubricant and pours more of it directly inside him.

Sadistically, Rufus plunges two fingers from both hands into Cloud at once, stretching him apart and pressing hard into his prostate, unyielding in his search for the center of the man’s body. Cloud is barely able to remain upright, fucked almost stupid at this point, cock hard and weepy, leaking wet spots onto the sheets. He can’t even muster the strength to touch himself, Rufus having pressed his cock back inside him, fucking him even as he leaves a pair of gloved fingers inside his body. Rufus isn’t being lazy about it anymore; not teasing. He’s hammering into Cloud’s gaping body like he means it, and he’s close to his own climax.

“Can you remember who I am?” he asks cruelly.

Cloud is sobbing into the bed, shuddering with each thrust, barely able to breathe, let alone talk. Rufus pulls his fingers from Cloud’s body and in a quick, sweeping motion snatches his wrists in each hand, wrenching him up by his arms so that only his knees were left on the bed. He plunges forward, pulling Cloud toward him by the wrists.

“ _Who?!”_ Rufus snarls.

Cloud throws his head back and cries out; a desperate, broken thing that fills the room and knocks the wind from Rufus’ lungs. Rufus comes inside of him, fucking him through it, making a mess of himself and Cloud and the bed. Cloud comes almost quietly, limp in his grip, and when Rufus lets him go, he falls to the bed without even bracing himself. He’s gasping, short little breaths, and twitching every few seconds. He can see through his haze that Rufus is coming down from his euphoria, giving him a look that’s an odd mixture of affection and pity. He lies down beside Cloud and curls him into his chest, wrapping an arm around his exhausted body.

Cloud reaches out for Rufus’ shirt with both hands, clutching.

“ _Mine. My President._ ”

Rufus smiles and kisses the hair on top of his head several times.

“Good boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo dawg, I heard you like smut, so I put some smut in your smut so you can smut while you smuttin ;orz


	8. Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud realizes that he may have been mistaken about Rufus. Maybe.

Rufus emerges from the bathroom having left the water in the tub running at full blast. He insisted on drawing Cloud a bath, which really didn’t seem like such a terrible idea, so Cloud obliged without more than a faint nod.

He's lying on his left side on Rufus’ bed, facing the bathroom door, still a bit too delirious and weary to move. Rufus walks across the room and sits before him, smiling, and before long Cloud can feel the weight of his hand on his head. It does wonders anchoring him to reality.

“It’s about ready. Do you think you can stand?”

“I’ll be alright,” Cloud answers without really considering whether or not the statement is true. He lifts himself from the bed, more of a feline-like stretch than anything else, and twists around till he’s sitting at the edge, feet flat on the floor. Rufus stands, offering him a hand which Cloud initially seeks to ignore but reconsiders when he realizes just how much ache has permeated the muscles in his legs and back. He takes Rufus’ hand and rises, too focused on the soreness and lack of stability to be embarrassed by the oddly intimate gesture of hand holding.

Rufus pulls Cloud from the bed with his left hand, wrapping his right arm around his hip for extra support. Cloud can’t help but feel a little silly as they walk together to the bathroom. Now that he’s upright he’s acutely aware of the way his body feels dreadfully empty and the sensation rocks him to his core. He wonders how long it will stay like this; an enduring reminder that Rufus was once there, within, closer than anyone else has ever been to him, and now isn’t. As they pass through the doorway of the bathroom and round the corner to the tub, he shudders _. This feeling has to go away. It simply won’t do._

“I made it nice and hot, just be careful,” Rufus cautions, sliding the hand at Cloud’s hip to the small of his back, urging him to step in.

The bathroom is fairly plain and dimly lit, though the tub is oddly large; a bit too large for the bathroom, in actuality. Most everything is white or chrome, unsurprising given the occupant, but upon close inspection it’s all pristine, well kept, clean.

Cloud takes a step into the tub, then another, all the while braced by Rufus’ steady hands. It’s hot but it soothes his aching muscles almost instantly as he lowers himself into the welcoming heat in increments until he’s submerged to the collarbone. Rufus pulls a towel from the rack on the opposite wall and takes a seat on the bidet beside the tub, placing the towel neatly across his thigh. He leans forward towards Cloud, resting his elbows on his knees and joining his hands together in front of him. The steam from the bath is already making Cloud dewy and pink, so he’s hoping Rufus doesn’t notice the flush blooming across his cheeks that’s no doubt caused by the way the man is looking at him.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good. I thought perhaps I might’ve,” Rufus pauses, runs his fingers through his hair and rubs the back of his neck. “Well, I was afraid I may have overdone it.”

Cloud fidgets in the tub, causing water to slosh around noisily. He stares at Rufus, searching, but he seems earnestly concerned. Cloud blinks a few times, lashes damp.

“You didn’t,” he answers finally.

Rufus abruptly slides from the bidet, kneeling alongside the tub. Cloud is startled by the sudden movement, perplexed as Rufus rolls up his sleeves, pulls both gloves from his hands with a snap, and leans over him. He reaches across the width of the bath, grabbing a bottle of something Cloud assumes is soap of some kind.

“What are you doing,” he asks, tense.

Rufus stops, holding the bottle in mid-air. He gives Cloud a puzzled look before smiling again.

“I’ve put your body through quite a lot. This is part of it.”

“Part of what?”

“Of taking care of you. Of putting you back together, remember?”

The expression on Rufus’ face is too endearing and it makes Cloud light-headed.

“You don’t have to do that,” Cloud says quietly.

Rufus shakes his head, sitting the bottle down on the tile floor. He plunges his hands into the water and grips Cloud by the wrists. It isn’t forceful but it takes Cloud by surprise nonetheless.

“I want to,” Rufus says sincerely, and he leans in to kiss Cloud on the mouth, lingering there, tongue prodding, taking care to investigate every corner before pulling away. Cloud is breathless, suddenly terrified of how to respond to Rufus’ affections when they aren’t greedily touching and fucking one another. Rufus’ willingness to show him passing tenderness is intensifying, but for once he doesn’t have an immediate urge to run away. He can’t for the life of him figure out why Rufus has taken such an interest in him at all outside of his practical usefulness.

“ _Fine_ ,” Cloud says with a tone, but his expression betrays him.

Rufus abandons the bottle and positions himself at the end of the tub so that he’s kneeling behind Cloud. He’s tense in the water, still; waiting restlessly for Rufus’ touch. It comes, a hand on each shoulder first, kneading slow and deliberate so that Cloud expels a healthy moan. Rufus stays quiet as his hands do work on Cloud’s neck and shoulders and Cloud would be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful for it.

“Is this the part where you ask me for another favor?” Cloud asks suddenly.

Rufus nearly snorts. “A _joke?_ ” He lifts a wet hand to Cloud’s forehead. “Are you sure you don’t have a fever?”

Cloud flinches as water drips into his eyes. “You’re hilarious,” he says sarcastically as Rufus returns the hand to its prior duties. His pleasant massaging creeps down Cloud’s chest, almost dutiful.

“It’s so easy to get under your skin. _And_ inside your pants, it would seem,” Rufus taunts.

“Tch, you’re one to talk. I seem to remember _you_ undressing for _me_.” This evokes hushed laughter from Rufus, a warm, alluring sound that Cloud finds all too captivating. He leans his head back against the tub, looking directly up at the man bent over him, still rubbing and squeezing at the warm, pink flesh of his chest. Rufus slows instinctively, casting his eyes down to meet Cloud’s.

“I can’t argue with that.”

“You mean for once you’re speechless?” Cloud almost smirks.

“I wouldn’t go quite that far.”

They lock eyes for a few seconds too long, and when Rufus’ fingertips brush against a nipple, Cloud lifts his head precipitously.

“You were certainly full of speeches today,” he says in an effort to keep conversation going between them.

Rufus sighs, moving a hand to each of Cloud’s biceps. “Well, that was all business, wasn’t it? That sort of thing is a bit dull to me these days.”

Cloud considers the words for a few quiet moments, a bit stunned by the admission. He always took Rufus for the sort to bask in such opportunities to regale the masses and exercise power, be it soft or hard. He’s finding it difficult to fumble around for subjects about which to chat, so he elects to stay silent. Several minutes pass this way until Rufus diverts his attentions to Cloud’s back, forcing him to lean forward somewhat as his hands inch down his spine.

“You’re awfully quiet this evening,” Rufus finally remarks, subdued. “Even for you.”

“You don’t like answering questions,” Cloud says flatly.

“ _No,_ I don’t like being interrogated. Perhaps you’d know that if you ever bothered to ask me anything personal.” His words have a razor sharp edge that cuts Cloud more deeply than he wants to admit.

“Sorry,” he replies, pausing. “I thought you only really cared about…well, Shinra.” He’s still leaning forward when Rufus withdraws his hands, leading Cloud to believe that he’s had enough. He’s gazing down into the water which has lost its searing heat, waiting for Rufus’ clever retort to cleave straight through him like it always does. However, a wet sound at the edge of the tub and sudden splashing of water startle him from his thoughts.

Rufus has plunged one leg into the bath, the other following straightaway, while still fully dressed from head to toe. Cloud lurches back against the tub, clutching its sides as Rufus kneels before him, sloshing water onto the floor in huge rhythmic waves.

“ _What the fuck are you doing?!”_ Cloud gasps in shock.

Rufus’ arms are slack at his sides, partially underwater, and he looks at Cloud with an inquisitive air about him. Even so, Cloud can sense the melancholy tugging at the corners of his eyes.

“When you look at me, what do you see? _Who_ do you see?”

Cloud is almost certain he can read sorrow in his voice.

“ _Why do you care_ what I see?”

Rufus swallows his impatience. “Because I think we are actually quite alike.”

Cloud snorts, a little aggrieved. “How so?”

Rufus rolls his head, annoyed, before placing his hands on the edge of the tub so he can lean in closer to Cloud.

“You aren’t the only man to narrowly survive Meteor. We fought on different sides, yes, but the enemy was the same was it not?” He reaches for Cloud’s left arm, gripping his bicep with more force than was necessary. It stuns Cloud, as does the look in Rufus’ eyes. “The stigma cut you off from everything, _everyone_ , too, did it not? How many times did you contemplate your death? How many nights of sleep lost?”

He releases Cloud’s arm, almost throwing it against the tub, and rises to his feet. He stands there, water pouring from his arms and torso, clothing sagging from his frame with the weight of saturation. Cloud cranes his neck up at him, troubled, brows furrowed. He can’t entirely grasp what Rufus is getting at, but the harsh memories of crushing despair and existential loneliness he’d experienced night after night in that church in Sector 5 are certainly something he understands.

“I didn’t sleep,” he says, voice faltering. “I still don’t.”

Rufus stares down at him silently for a while and Cloud hates it; it looks exactly like pity.

“Stop it. Don’t look at me like that.”

Rufus is still.

“I don’t know, Rufus,” Cloud is uneasy, thrown completely off kilter by the resurgence of wounds from lives past that he’s been ever vigilant to keep buried deep. “I don’t know what kind of man you are; I guess I’m not that perceptive. I just know that I can’t sleep most nights. I have dreams—nightmares—terrible _fucking_ nightmares almost every night and they only—” he stops short, taking a deep breath, unable to meet Rufus’ eyes any longer. “I only sleep on the nights that…after I’ve been with you.”

Rufus steps out of the tub suddenly and turns away, splashing water across Cloud’s face and in his hair. Cloud is mortified at the words that have just come out of his mouth; he’s not even fully aware of what they mean to him yet, let alone Rufus. The ache in his muscles pales in comparison to the ache thrumming mercilessly in his chest.

“ _Rufus,”_ Cloud finally calls out, powerless to hide the vulnerability in his voice. He’s afraid that Rufus has caught on; has at last come to his senses about this hapless wretch he keeps taking to his bed, but as Cloud finally looks up from the surface of the murky water he finds that Rufus is standing beside the tub holding the towel open in both hands.

“Get up,” he says softly, and the timbre of it somehow instantly puts Cloud at ease. Cloud obeys, bracing himself on the edge of the tub, marveling at how much more lithe and relaxed his body feels. Rufus is on him with the towel as soon as the cold air hits his skin, wrapping it around his shoulders and pulling it snug. He’s still in his wet clothes, but he ushers Cloud out of the bathroom anyway.

Rufus closes the door behind him, leaving the mess on the bathroom floor unattended and the tub still full of water.

“Come. Let’s go to bed.”

\---

The next morning, Cloud has Rufus’ car drop him off a few blocks down from Seventh Heaven so he can walk the rest of the way and avoid any potentially explosive situations. To his relief, Tifa and the kids aren’t there, which is fairly typical for a late morning. It’s not uncommon for Tifa to run her errands or take the kids to burn off some energy at the playground before the bar opens for the evening.

Cloud strips his clothes away and throws them at his dirty laundry hamper, noting that it’s probably about time to do some wash when most of the articles of clothing simply roll from the peak of the pile and onto the floor. He turns the shower on hot and steps in after a few seconds, letting the water cascade over his head and shoulders until his hair hangs soaked and heavy at his ears. He’s amazed at how deep the ache in his calves and lower back has penetrated, and every time he moves or twists just so, he’s back in Rufus’ bed again, on his knees. He clenches his eyes shut and lets the water drown out all sound, raking his fingers across his own chest to distract himself from the way he feels between his legs and how badly he wants to relive it.

When he’s finally clean, he steps out of the shower feeling anything but. He dresses in his typical style save for his shirt, which he trades for a black herringbone sweater, fully zipped to ward off the persistent cold weather. He has a few deliveries today, nothing huge, so he sets off on Fenrir after sneaking a shot of the bar’s best gin; for warmth. He feels good, uplifted, probably because Rufus simply let him sleep uninterrupted; a feat which he can rarely achieve on his own.

But he did. From the moment his head hit Rufus’ expensive pillow until the first time he opened his eyes shortly after dawn, he slept.

\---

He returns from his work in the early evening after the bar has opened, still feeling good and contemplating having a few drinks and a chat with Tifa. It’s not too busy and seems to be a slow night in general, so he takes a seat at the bar and waves her down, huffing the last of the cold air out of his lungs. She’s at the other end of the bar pouring a beer when she sees him and smiles, making her way down to him as she double checks on this patron and that so they can catch up relatively undisturbed.

“Hey!” she calls, grinning. “Let me guess, something hard?”

Cloud smiles at her, amused. “It _is_ cold today,” he says in his defense. “A shot of gin would be nice.”

Tifa wrinkles her nose. “When did you start drinking _that?_ ” She turns and grabs something mid-shelf and tosses it effortlessly into a shot glass. Mercifully, she made it a double.

“It’s nothing new, I don’t like dark liquor,” he brushes off the inquiry, swallowing half the drink in one swift toss.

Tifa sits the bottle down between them, a silent offering for him to help himself. She leans on the bar, one hand on her hip, casual.

“So, you’ve been busy lately I take it,” she says by way of conversation. Cloud nods. “I heard Shinra’s thing was really nice.”

Cloud coughs on the second gulp of the shot. “ _What?”_

She makes a pained face at him, raising her eyebrow. “Are you alright? Sheesh. The mural thing or whatever. I heard it went really well. I took the kids to play while everything was deserted.”

Cloud clears his throat a couple times, wincing at the burn of liquor in his trachea. “Oh, yeah. It was pretty boring but the crowd ate it up.”

She pours him another shot, her face suddenly going a little dark. Cloud is struck by a strange feeling of dread.

“Well, since you’ve had a good drink, I guess I should just go ahead and give you the bad news.” She sits the bottle down again, crossing her arms and tilting her head to one side.

Cloud freezes with the shot glass in hand. Tifa swallows, procrastinating.

“Yeah?” He stares at her, expectant.

“I took a call for you today. It came through on your landline. The secretary for a man named Schroder.”

Cloud sits the glass on the bar slowly, holding his breath.

“I’m sorry to say, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in your business anymore. He dropped Strife Delivery Service.”

\---

Cloud seethes through the next two weeks, in a constant state of conflict about whether or not to call Rufus and barrage him with a series of inquiries he was sure would not please him.

The loss of Dax Schroder as a client is devastating. The shipyard generates perpetual need for couriers, understandably so in a port town and Cloud was certain to be out a lot of money and networking influence. His mind has been reeling since the day he found out. He’s positive now that Rufus orchestrated something untoward in Junon that Cloud was stupid enough to have been a party to, however he knew if he called Rufus about it right away that he’d fuck it up. He needed time to settle his nerves and collect his thoughts.

Perhaps foolishly, he decides to play everything as normal and confront Rufus about it at their next meeting.

His customary call doesn’t come from Rufus, though.

“Yo,” Reno says when Cloud puts the phone to his ear. Its midday and he’s been lying in his bed since he finished his only delivery for the day, trying in vain to avoid Denzel and Marlene stampeding around in the hallway outside his door.

“What now?” He assumes it’s going to be about work.

“He wants to know where you prefer to meet,” he says, sounding a little exasperated. “He’s willing to go back to the city.”

Cloud feels like someone dropped a house on his chest. He’s quiet for a few seconds too long, trying to think of a way to respond.

“Tick tock,” Reno interjects the silence, smarmy.

Cloud really doesn’t want to mistakenly stumble into the details of his relationship with Rufus, so he instead endeavors to come across as calm as possible. It’s obvious at this point that his subordinates know more than Cloud would ever like them to, but he was averse to the idea of feeding any of their curiosity, intentionally or not.

“Edge.” At least this way he can get there and back quickly. It was riskier in some ways and safer in others.

“Good. Be at the corner you were left on in four hours. There’ll be a car.”

“While you’re playing messenger, why don’t you tell him I said to call me himself next time,” Cloud challenges, always more likely to get a little snitty with Reno in particular.

Reno laughs smugly into the receiver. “I don’t work for you, pretty boy.”

 _Click_.

“God damn it!” Cloud shouts, and hears the stamping of feet come to a halt outside his door.

“….Are you okay, Cloud?” A tiny voice; Marlene.

Cloud throws the phone across the bed and drapes an arm over his eyes, suddenly falling victim to a splitting headache.

“I’m fine, Marlene, thank you.” They whisper outside his room for a few seconds. He can see the shadows of their feet beneath the door. “ _Okay_ , go away now,” he says a little loudly and they run off all at once, giggling as they thunder down the stairs.

He’s wound as tight as ever.

\---

The car to Rufus’ apartment is again driven by a mystery chauffeur that never seeks to reveal himself. He knows he’s supposed to take the front seat, but the thought of sitting with a stranger and having to potentially wade through idle banter makes him feel queasier than any back seat ever could. He cracks the window in the back of the car, sticking his nose out partially to inhale as much fresh air as possible and orient himself to the outside world, and partially to make mental note of how to get to and from this particular apartment near Sector 4. Keeping track of Rufus’ homes away from home is starting to become dizzying.

Outside the building, Cloud realizes he has no key card to get inside. He calls Rufus on his cell, but instead of answering, the door suddenly opens on its own. Cloud is a bit surprised by the familiarly advanced technology this otherwise unassuming building boasts, but he walks up the darkened stairwell to Rufus’ unit and brushes the thoughts off.

Rufus answers the door as Cloud trudges up the last few steps, wearing his white suit pants, black button down, gloves, and a warm grin.

“I see you made it without any delays,” he says as Cloud steps around him and into the room. He revels a moment in the embrace of Rufus’ cologne.

“Thanks for coming all this way,” Cloud replies, and he finds that he is actually quite grateful.

“Anything for you,” Rufus speaks in a teasing manner, but it makes Cloud’s heart skip a beat anyway.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says as Rufus brushes the collar of Cloud’s slightly unzipped sweater from his neck with one hand.

Rufus scans the hollow of Cloud’s throat, touching his collarbone lightly with his fingertips. “Pity. I must try harder.” He wraps his fingers around Cloud’s neck and descends as if to kiss him. Cloud throws his hands up, pressing them into Rufus' chest, firm.

“Wait, I think…I mean, we need to talk. First.”

Rufus regards him cautiously, pulling away from Cloud and sighing. “I don’t like the sound of that.” He turns, walking across the room to his armchair, where he sits and throws one leg over the other. The room doesn’t really consist of much seating other than the bed, so Cloud perches on the corner of it, facing Rufus.

“I lost a client recently. An important one.”

Rufus bobs the ankle of his crossed leg up and down, indifferent, his left elbow leaning on the armrest of the leather chair. Cloud’s a bit offended by his listless behavior.

“Dax Schroder.”

Rufus stills suddenly, his back straightening.

“Well that _is_ unfortunate,” he says, looking far off, brows knitted in displeasure.

“You know something about this, don’t you?”

Rufus shakes his head as though literally snapping out of a daze. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know. Tell me why a man I’ve done business with for over a year drops me out of nowhere after representing you.”

“Why must the two things be related?” Rufus says, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“He calls me _the day after_ I’m seen supporting yet another business venture of yours, I just don’t see how that’s a coincidence.”

“Are you blaming me?” Rufus asks bluntly.

Cloud wants to say yes but he’s sure the situation is more complex. “That account was huge for me, Rufus. This is my _livelihood_ , I’m talking about here.” He makes it sound accusatory on purpose and it works. Rufus sighs heavily, a defeated look on his face.

“I am sorry, Cloud. If nothing else, he’s now _my_ business partner under contract. I can inquire as to his reasoning.”

“No. No, don’t do that,” Cloud pleads, springing from the bed and walking towards a window with the shade drawn. He pulls it open a bit so he can see the setting sun, hoping this conversation would become easier if he just didn’t have to look into Rufus’ eyes. “I don’t need you meddling.”

“It’s the least I can do. From his perspective, you’re just another colleague of mine. A paid employee. If I can vouch for you, he should see reason, especially after working with you for so long.” Rufus sounds genuine, and by all means it certainly would benefit him to have Cloud back in Schroder’s employ.

Cloud can see Rufus arise from the chair and stalk toward him in his peripheral vision. He leans his head against the window, pretending to be absent minded though his heart is racing. It would be much easier to just believe the words coming out of Rufus’ mouth than to keep fighting. If Rufus has the ability to rectify the situation somehow and save Cloud the trouble of clambering for work to make up for the financial hemorrhaging on the horizon, Cloud was certainly tempted to submit.

Cloud reacts to Rufus’ touch a split second before it’s there; a hand pressed between his shoulder blades, fingers of the other hand curling gently around his bicep. Rufus collapses into him, invading his space, breathing lightly onto Cloud’s neck as he nestles into his jawline.

“Let me fix it,” he says so low it’s almost a whisper, and Cloud nearly melts. It’s been two weeks since they were last together with no contact in between; not even the sound of each other’s voices.

The classic feelings of longing that Rufus elicits from him come flooding back inside, starting low and rising steadily. Once again, his body talks him into relenting against his brain’s better judgment. Cloud twists himself into Rufus so that his own back is pressed against the glass. Rufus twines his arms around Cloud’s waist, natural, pulling his lower half in close. Cloud grips his shirt in both hands, up near the collar, popping a button loose in the process. His eyes meet Rufus’ and he exhales, hungry.

“Let me give you some incentive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as is tradition, kudos appreciated; comments lusted after :3c


	9. Terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud thinks he's getting exactly what he wants until he realizes he's not sure what that is.

After Rufus spends a few seconds giggling discreetly at Cloud’s attempts to come across as seductive, they make their way from the window by inches as Cloud kisses and pushes at Rufus, driving him backward against the bed. When the back of his legs hit the frame he nearly falls onto the mattress but catches himself in an instant, sitting haphazardly but of his own accord. Cloud still has his hands wound tight around Rufus’ shirt, gripping with so much tension that he could feel the muscles in his own arms flexing. His expression is a little severe, but his paramour still responds to it with steadfast guile.

“You seem to have an ax to grind,” Rufus laughs, looking up at Cloud with his signature smile. Perhaps on their second or third encounter Cloud would have been fooled by this, but he can already see through the guise. He’s come to notice that Rufus blinks a lot when he struggles to maintain his composure; a flutter of lashes that betrays the carnal desires beneath.

“Shut up,” Cloud replies, inflection in his voice low and steady. “For once, just don’t talk.” He releases Rufus’ shirt, descending to his neck to lay delicate kisses there. He can’t see or hear Rufus’ reaction, but his silence speaks volumes. When he reaches between Rufus’ legs with both hands, tugging at the clasp on his trousers, Rufus exhales heavily over his shoulder. Cloud stops for just a moment, waiting for a remark that, to his delight, never comes. He continues, rubbing the length of Rufus’ erection over his briefs while his other hand takes gentle hold of his balls.

He leans in close, his ear at Rufus’ throat, breathing down across the man's collarbone, kneading and listening. A hand descends onto the back of his neck, squeezing, and he wriggles out of the grip to meet Rufus’ eyes.

“Don’t. Don’t touch.”

The reaction clearly gives Rufus pause and Cloud is gratified by the subtle astonishment in his eyes. Rufus stills, blinking a few times, lips slightly parted. Eventually, Cloud ceases the pleasant stroking, prompting Rufus to relent at last; swallowing hard and nodding in response. At that, Cloud casts his eyes down at his hands as he carefully works Rufus out of his briefs.

Perhaps he does have an axe to grind. He’s not quite sure. But he has been thinking a lot lately about what he wants to do to Rufus; how best to overcome him in this tawdry game they indulge in when the world around them seems ceaselessly at risk.

He kneels before Rufus, mind blank as he wraps his fingers around the man’s bare cock. This is the first time in weeks he’s been this close to it, and now that he’s more clear-headed he can appreciate it in all its splendor. Rufus is impressive for a man of his average stature; rock hard against Cloud’s palm, smooth and straight as an arrow. His head is already swollen and weepy and the sight of it hastens Cloud’s lust to the point of dizziness. He bows his head, drawing Rufus near his lips so he can breathe hot and wet on the exposed skin of his dick. When Rufus bites back a sound, Cloud looks up at him.

“I said don’t _talk._ I want to hear everything _else._ ” Cloud squeezes then, perhaps a little harder than he should have, and Rufus expels a breath with it. He nods again.

Satisfied with Rufus’ silent capitulation, Cloud parts his lips and slides him inside just enough to give him a languid lick with the breadth of his tongue. He closes his mouth around Rufus’ cock when he tastes the salt of his skin, slipping the tip of his tongue into the slit to claim the warm, thick fluid already building there. Rufus stirs as Cloud takes him inside his mouth again and again, sucking eagerly and somewhat noisily with lips soft and full enough to make any man’s mind wander. Rufus moans audibly, clearly losing his composure and suffering under the weight of the words he wants to say but can’t. The thought makes Cloud ache inside his pants.

Pulling Rufus from his mouth with a lurid pop, Cloud lifts his head to get a good look at the man’s face. Rufus keens low as their eyes meet, and Cloud is nearly euphoric at the spectacle of him, flushed and heavy lidded, brows knitted and lips parted in an expression of pure bliss. When Rufus pants at him, wordless, Cloud’s chest tightens with the desire to kiss him, but he chokes it down; tries to maintain whatever semblance of control he’s managed to pry from Rufus’ grasp.

“I wish you could see what I see,” Cloud says without thinking, and Rufus inhales sharply in response, clutching the sheets in both hands to keep from touching the man in his lap.

Cloud grasps Rufus’ cock again, pulling at him a few times as they gaze at each other in silence. This time when he takes him into his mouth, he lowers his head until Rufus is tucked deep in his throat. He swallows, straining a bit against Rufus’ hips as he writhes beneath Cloud’s jaw. The way Rufus fills him to the brim makes him light headed and thrilled in some fashion; he can’t really comprehend why he wants more, but he does. He holds Rufus inside him, moaning and swallowing around him, rolling his neck and digging his hands into Rufus’ hips.  

“ _Ah!”_ Rufus cries out, and it’s the loudest Cloud has ever heard him. “ _Mercy,_ Cloud,” he gasps, pleading. “You _have_ to let me touch you or speak, _please.”_

Cloud rises languorously from between Rufus’ legs again, letting saliva cling to his tongue and lips as Rufus’ cock slips from his mouth. He looks up, predatory.

“You have a pretty low tolerance,” he replies menacingly, licking his still glistening lips.

Rufus winces at the sight, shuddering. “You’re too good at this,” he murmurs, shutting his eyes.

“Pick one.”

Rufus is quiet, thinking.

“You’re more ruthless than I thought,” he almost laughs, opening his eyes finally. They’re so blue—almost clear—that Cloud thinks there might be tears there. “Let me praise you,” he chooses at last.

“Fine. Just don’t touch.”

Cloud dips his head again and returns to his work, baring the underside of Rufus’ cock so he can drag his tongue up and down the length of him. Rufus moans, canting his hips forward into the welcome attention. Cloud draws back far enough to look up at Rufus as he sucks gingerly at his head, right hand pulsing in a steady rhythm around his shaft.

“ _Oh, Cloud, you’re so good,”_ Rufus says in a voice that’s almost all breath. _“How did you get so good at this?”_

The sound of his voice is as effective as any aphrodisiac could ever hope to be. Cloud flinches almost imperceptibly at the sound of it, letting his jaw fall slack so that he can rest the soft flesh of Rufus’ head against his bottom lip. He licks at the tip of him, open-mouthed and lewd, rolling his tongue around it over and over so that Rufus can see every second.

“ _Fuck!”_ Rufus folds forward, eyes shut tight and hands still tearing at the sheets. “ _God,_ Cloud, you’re fucking _beautiful_ , I can’t look at you or I’ll—”

Cloud swallows him whole mostly to keep from smiling, cutting Rufus’ thought short. He grasps him by the rib cage hard with both hands, digging his fingers into Rufus’ body mercilessly. His sharp gasp is tinged with surprise and a little pain, but the moans of pleasure that immediately issue from his throat spur Cloud on ever further. Rufus clasps a hand over Cloud’s, gripping tightly as if for his life, and though he’s blatantly broken one of Cloud’s rules he decides to let it go, raking his free hand down Rufus’ torso and seizing him by the hip.

Cloud sucks Rufus off as his rich moans and barely intelligible praise fill the room around them. Even through his focus on Rufus’ dick, Cloud can tell that the man has lost all restraint. His head is thrown back, free arm bracing his body on the bed as he snaps his hips up into Cloud’s mouth. Cloud strains against the force of it, digging bruises into Rufus’ skin as he presses him down onto the bed in an effort to keep him still. Suddenly, Rufus lunges forward with wild eyes, snatching Cloud by the hair with enough violence to send a sharp pain through his skull.

“ _I need to see you!”_ He yanks back hard, pulling Cloud from his dick in a swift movement.

By the time Cloud has processed what’s happened he can already taste Rufus’ come on his tongue and feel the warmth of it across his lips and chin. He’s still arrested by Rufus’ fist in his hair but he shuts his eyes, extending his tongue to receive what he could of the fruits of Rufus’ ardor. He opens his eyes slowly to see an utterly undone man before him, panting so hard and brow so knitted as to be nearly unrecognizable. Rufus releases his grip on Cloud’s hair, flushed, so Cloud leans in to lick the tip of his cock and suck the last trace of come from his wracked body. He swallows what Rufus has left in his mouth, licking his lips seductively as he looks into Rufus’ eyes.

“I’m _so_ sorry,” Rufus whispers finally, running his fingers through Cloud’s hair as if to put it back the way he found it. Cloud marvels at the way he looks now; candid and vulnerable, as though for the first time every last pretense has fallen away. He almost looks like a different person.

“Stop apologizing,” Cloud says, feeling a bit like a hypocrite as he wipes his face clean with the collar of his own shirt. He rises from his knees, crawling onto the bed, forcing Rufus down with a kiss that pins him to the sheets. Cloud lifts his head from Rufus’ mouth, straddling him, eyes falling to the black shirt that he suddenly can’t stop thinking about removing. Now that he has Rufus where he wants him, he finds himself hesitating. His own lust still burns hot in the pit of his stomach and his heart is warm at the thought of more hushed whispers and rapturous mewling from the man beneath him. When his eyes dart up to meet Rufus’, he can tell that he’s been knowingly studying Cloud for the last few seconds. Rufus reaches up, slender fingers still wrapped tight in expensive leather, and touches Cloud’s face. Tenderly he strokes his cheekbone with his thumb, making Cloud feel like his arms might buckle.

“ _Do it,”_ he urges quietly, an expression of want washing over his eyes.

Cloud silently accepts the entreaty, lowering his head to Rufus’ neck and kissing while his hands fall to the buttons of Rufus’ shirt. Each one undone incites the next kiss, then the next, till Cloud unfolds the shirt from Rufus’ body, exposing the red marks and fresh bruises forming around his ribs and down low near his hip. He places his hands again at the same spots on his rib cage, this time gently, resting his head on the center of his chest as he fights not to be overwhelmed by thoughts of Rufus leaving this place with marks on him that Cloud made. Though there’s still a hint of guilt there, he’s starting to understand why Rufus looks at him the way he does; possessive.

Rufus’ hand finds its way through Cloud’s hair as he drapes his other arm heavily over the back of Cloud’s neck. His heartbeat quickens. Rufus writhes beneath him, rubbing the back of Cloud’s head intimately, clearly hungry and growing impatient and needy.

“What are you waiting for, my love?”

Cloud goes cold, immediately aware of the way Rufus’ entire body tenses around him. He lurches up from Rufus’ chest, locking eyes with him for a fraction of a second before turning to flee. Rufus grabs him by the arm, almost frantic, and when Cloud snaps his neck back to look at him again he sees that Rufus is horrified.

“Cloud, wait,” he pleads, sounding as though he knew the second the words fell from his lips that he would regret them.

Cloud’s face is twisted into an expression of sheer confusion and anguish as he wrenches his arm from Rufus’ grasp.

“I have to go,” he says, nearly leaping from the bed in an effort to get away.

“No,” Rufus sits up like a shot and clambers across the bed on all fours, snatching at Cloud’s wrist as he hurries by. “Don’t Run!”

Cloud stops in his tracks, eyes cast down at the floor and wrist still caught in Rufus’ grasp. His mind is racing in circles and it’s making him dizzy.

“ _I’m sorry_ , I’m sorry, pretend I didn’t say anything,” he’s begging and it sears through Cloud’s heart like hot metal. “Cloud, _please_. Stay. Just forget that it happened. Please.”

Cloud is trembling, unable to remember the last time he was this conflicted over something that seemed so inconsequential. There was a voice buried deep in his brain that kept telling him to run; to push _away_ as fast and as hard as he could. But the feeling inside his chest—the one that used to _be_ inconsequential—is sprawling out of control. He turns slowly to look at Rufus over his shoulder, almost afraid of what he might see.

“ _Stay._ ” Rufus says again. It’s not a command.

It’s a wish.

\---

The room is dark save for the moonlight that streams in through the cracks in the shade against the long wall, painting bluish stripes against the bare skin of Cloud’s arm and shoulder. It’s the quietest area he’s ever been in Edge; he can’t even hear the sounds of traffic in the distance.

Just the steady breaths from Rufus as his chest rises and falls, Cloud’s head lying heavy across his sternum.

He’s been curled into Rufus, naked, an arm thrown over his torso, for the better part of an hour now. They’d talked until Rufus decided to dim the lights in an effort to coax Cloud to sleep—something he’s been unable to accomplish thus far. Cloud can feel fatigue weighing his eyelids down but he fights it just the same.

“Are you asleep?” Cloud asks, sounding as though he’s just woken up. Rufus inhales slowly, sighing.

“Not yet,” he replies, a little displeased that Cloud still hasn’t succumbed to his own fatigue. He combs his fingers through Cloud’s hair, spreading them apart and rubbing at his scalp with his fingertips. If Cloud could melt under the pressure of it, he would have. “Is something the matter?”

“Why did you have Reno call me today?”

Rufus sucks his teeth. “Is it so bad?”

“I thought you only told them what they needed to know,” Cloud says, a little sarcastic.

Rufus tugs at his hair playfully before returning to his gentle massaging. “You just enjoy being difficult, don’t you?”

Cloud knits his eyebrows, insulted, but considers it for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe. Don’t change the subject.”

“I was busy, I’m sorry. If you missed the sound of my voice, you can just admit it,” Rufus purrs through a smile that Cloud can hear in his tone.

Cloud tightens his arm around Rufus’ ribs, fidgeting his legs restlessly. “It’s embarrassing. They obviously know…things.”

Rufus laughs quietly, almost sweetly. “Alright, alright. I’ll make time to call you myself for this kind of thing from now on. _My_ , you’re awfully demanding, have I spoiled you? Seems I’ve created a monster.”

Cloud half smiles at that, closing his eyes with resolve to fall asleep.

“ _Thank you_ , Rufus,” he murmurs into his chest, slipping at last into unconsciousness.

\---

_Pitch black. It’s pitch black. Can’t see, can’t hear anything._

_Running, sprinting. Running as fast as possible toward a light; a light in the distance. A greenish light in the distance. What is it?_

_Hole. It’s a huge hole; a crater. The light is bursting up from it like a pillar, gotta reach it. Run faster, something is following._

_Someone is following!_

_Caught up to it. It’s too massive to be real. Looking over the edge, it seems so deep. Endless. Swirling miasma. Is it the Lifestream?_

_Fucking skin is crawling; something is coming. Nowhere to go? Nothing. Nothing in any direction and the someone or something is right behind—_

_Jump?_

_PAIN. Searing, burning pain from behind, can’t turn, can’t move, can’t run. Fuck!_

_Falling, can’t reach, can’t grasp anything! What is this pain? Hand at the shoulder, crushing, gripping, feels familiar. Terror, blackness, horror inside, deep, deep inside. Rip it out, claw it out, get it out!_

_Still falling, endless, stomach lurching. Something bursting out of the chest? Wet. Feels wet._

_Blood._

_Pain is too great, hand tearing at the hair, a voice. Voice drifting inside the ears, an evil voice._

_Sword. It’s a sword. Seen this sword before. Heard this voice before. Know this touch, this fear, this is—_

_“Tell me what you cherish most.”_

Cloud.

_“Give me the pleasure of taking it away.”_

Cloud!

His body is tense, every muscle taut and shining with cold sweat, teeth gnashing and eyes burning Mako bright. He’s fighting, panting, mind racing with images that terrorize and inflame him.

“ _Cloud, pl…ease,”_ Rufus chokes beneath him, throat straining against the preternatural vise grip of Cloud’s hand. He’s a strong man, but even with both hands locked around Cloud’s wrist he’s powerless; pinned down under the weight of Cloud’s body as he towers over him, maddened. He abandons the wrist with one hand, clawing up Cloud’s arm and at his collarbone which he can barely reach. “ _Cloud,”_ he gasps one last time, and it’s enough to make him blink his eyes and loosen his grip on Rufus’ neck a fraction of an inch. It’s enough.

Rufus immediately coughs uncontrollably as he struggles to get air, jarring Cloud completely from the night terror. He’s disoriented, trying desperately to process what’s happening when it dawns on him. Rufus is rubbing his throat, gasping, teary eyed and colorless in the face. Cloud stares down at his hands in disbelief, only now realizing that the dream was not real.

“ _Fuck!”_ He rears back, scrambling from Rufus’ body and kneeling at his side, too afraid to touch him but too worried to leave him.

Rufus raises a hand as if to alleviate his fears. “I’m fine, it’s…it’s fine.”

“ _God damn it_ ,” Cloud is so tormented by abject terror that he can’t hide it in the sound of his voice. He’s trembling violently from adrenaline and shock. “Rufus, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, god!”

“It’s alright, Cloud, it was just—”

“I’m such a fucking nightmare, I can’t stay here, I can’t stay,” the words are as strained and broken as he feels on the inside. “You _can’t_ be near me. No one can.”

Rufus reaches out to Cloud but he recoils, curling into himself as though he might be able to simply disappear. He shudders, gasping for air, hands tingling and chest aching. He feels numb, unable to catch his breath and feeling faint as a result.

“Cloud,” he hears, and suddenly he can feel Rufus’ touch. By now he’s folded almost into a fetal position on his knees, prompting Rufus to wrap both arms around him from behind and lay his head squarely between his shoulder blades. His closeness eases Cloud into reality and he can feel his heart rate start to slow.

“It’s not your fault. Just breathe.”

He’s still hunched over, wide eyed, eyes wet with tears that forced their way out when he was overcome by dread and panic. The weight of Rufus at his back is making him warm; giving him something real and tangible to focus on. He can breathe now; can think, but guilt still rattles around in his bones, making him feel weak.

“I’m sorry I’m like this.”

“There’s nothing for it,” Rufus says quietly, trying to make light of the situation. “Besides, it was probably my fault. You felt safe before. You didn’t tonight.”

Cloud straightens finally, curious. Rufus follows suit, keeping his arms around Cloud as he turns to look him in the face, perplexed.

“I said something I shouldn’t have, and then I pressed you to stay. It won’t happen again.” He lifts a hand from Cloud’s side to brush a few strands of hair from his eyes. “I want you to feel safe with me. Do you understand?”

Cloud blinks a few times, really absorbing what Rufus just told him. Absorbing all the nights he was able to sleep so well only after a visit to Healen; only after a night in his bed. He glances at the ugly marks on Rufus’ neck, shamed.

“I understand.”

\---

Several days pass without incident as Cloud struggles to put the events on the far side of Edge behind him. It’s been rainy since then, which Cloud doesn’t necessarily mind on the days that he can stay home but it makes deliveries a certified mess. This particular round of deliveries qualified.

He’s just returning to Seventh Heaven from a visit to the weapons dealer when his phone rings. He parks Fenrir in the rain, jogging around the bar to the entrance. Shaking the excess rainwater from his hair, he answers the phone, ducking inside before he gets it wet.

“Strife Deliveries,” he says, kicking his soaked shoes from his feet one at a time.

“Hello again, Cloud. It’s Reeve!” He sounds jovial enough.

“Hey, how are you doin’?” Cloud asks, trying to sound friendly.

“I’ve been good, a little busy, which is actually why I called. Do you have a moment?”

Cloud is a little puzzled but he agrees.

“Sure. Is this about a job?”

“Well, yes and no. Actually, it’s a little sensitive. I know you’re very busy with your new life, I respect that. But…being that we have a certain history, I was hoping you could help me out with something perhaps a little more…extracurricular in nature.”

“Sounds like you mean extra _legal_ in nature.”

Reeve laughs nervously. “Barret never gave you enough credit, I always knew you were pretty sharp.”

Cloud snorts. “Thanks.”

He strolls over to the bar to claim a stool. It was deserted and Tifa was nowhere to be found since it was still too early in the day to open for the drinking crowd.

“I don’t know how else to broach the subject, but I need help locating a shipment that was meant to come through Junon Harbor.”

Cloud tenses. “Junon Harbor?”

“Yes. Regrettably, the WRO lost a contract there recently and it’s been a nightmare doing business through that port since. The shipment was valuable; I’d essentially be hiring you to investigate its disappearance on my behalf. Surreptitiously, of course.”

 “Why did you lose the contract?”

“Ah, that. It’s the strangest thing. We had it clinched and then the guy backed out on me at the last minute. I’ve no idea why he got cold feet, it was going rather well. It’s been over a month now.”

Cloud considers it for a moment, suspicious. He likes Reeve; more importantly he trusts him, and if something valuable to the WRO is missing then it was no doubt valuable to Edge at large.

“I’ll look into it for you. I may need to hire some help. That okay?”

“I hope you don’t mind about that actually. It’s covered. I’ve already contacted an old colleague of ours. He’s on his way to Edge now. Should be there soon if my timing is correct.”

“Who did you contact?” Cloud wasn’t so sure he wanted to know.

“Don’t sound so uptight! Anyway, tell him I said hello. He has the details.”

“Reeve.”

“Talk to you soon!”

“Reeve!”

_Click._

Cloud wrinkles his nose, annoyed. “The hell does everyone always hang up on me.”

He’s suddenly startled by the slam of the door, cacophony of the pouring rain having drowned out the sound of it opening to begin with. As he twists around in the barstool to see who Reeve has sent, he hears a few wet footsteps, heavy. He cracks his neck, crossing his arms and leaning his back against the bar. The man walking towards him always did inspire a bit of arrogance in him after all.

“The hell you lookin’ at me like that for? Get offa ya lazy ass, we got work to do, Spikey.”

“Good to see you too, Barret.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as is tradition, kudos appreciated, comments lusted after. stay strong, my friends <3


	10. Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud and Barret put their heads together to unearth information on Reeve's behalf.

The two of them were sat at the bar beside one another, Tifa having returned shortly after Barret’s arrival, delaying any further discussion of the mission and its details. She was making drinks behind the counter, more than happy to greet a familiar face.

“Barret, I wish you’d told me ahead of time that you were coming, I would’ve kept Marlene home for the day,” Tifa says, lifting a brow as she pours Barrett a whiskey on the rocks.

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout it,” he takes the glass as she slides it over, throwing back half of it in one go. Cloud can see a little discontent in his eyes, but Barret is nothing if not dutiful when committed to a cause; great or small. “I ain’t gonna be here long. Jus’ got business wit’ loverboy, here,” he nods at Cloud, pointing a thumb in his direction while looking at Tifa. She giggles, and Cloud finds it endearing despite his annoyance.

“Glad to see you’re still an _idiot,”_ Cloud fires back.

“You must be out yo damn mind,” Barret glances from Cloud to Tifa, feigning shock. “You hear this?”

Tifa snickers, pulling a beer from the cooler and cracking it open for herself. She shrugs, silent, taking a swig from the bottle. Barret makes a face full of displeasure, shaking his head dejectedly.

“Damn, no backup. Shoulda expected as much.”

“So what’s the business you’ve got with _loverboy_ then?” she asks jokingly, smirking at Cloud. He rolls his eyes.

“Cute.”

“It’s a job for an old friend, it’s pretty confidential though,” he cracks his neck nervously. Both men know that Tifa is like a dog with a bone when her mind is made up. Barret looks at her, trying wordlessly to communicate that she shouldn’t ask anymore.

“Well?”

“Sh’it, Tifa,” Barret says hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I got orders. Ya don’t wanna get involved in this anyway. Ya got somethin’ good goin’ on here wit’ the bar and ya gotta protect it.”

Tifa plants her hands on her hips, spoiling for a fight, but Barret raises his prosthetic hand to stop her before she starts.

“Plus I can’t be takin’ botha ya, somebody’s gotta stay here with them kids.”

Tifa furrows at that, knowing that Barret is trying to be helpful and, unfortunately, has sound logic. Cloud finishes the last of his drink and slides the glass to her.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says reassuringly, knowing it’s more than her sense of adventure that has her angling to tag along. “It’s not gonna be dangerous and it won’t take long.” He has no idea how accurate that information is but he uses the line to maximum benefit.

She downs most of the rest of her beer in one angry gulp and sits it noisily in the sink.

“ _Fine,_ ” she says, sighing heavily and storming off towards the stairs. “Enjoy yourselves, _boys._ ”

Cloud and Barret fire each other a glance of shared relief as she thunders up the steps and down the hall, slamming a door.

“So what’s the word from Reeve about all this? How many questions do I wanna ask?”

“Pssh, the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not interested in knowing more than I need to. I’ve had enough of other people’s problems lately.” Cloud reaches across the bar, grabbing the bottle of gin Tifa failed to put away and popping the top.

“Got damn, what’s gotten into you? Can’t take ya drunk ass anywhere!” He snatches the bottle from Cloud and slams it down beside him.

“Now, what ya _need_ to know is that Reeve’s convinced foul play was involved in the business wit’ his damn fancy contract.” Barret finishes his own drink and pushes the glass away. “We been workin’ alongside each other to push this whole oil situation and he _still_ won’t tell me the contents of the missin’ shipment. But whatever the hell it is, it’s big. Important.” Barret had been determined to contribute to the new world by providing it with an alternative power source to Mako and has since been marginally successful. A relationship with the organization responsible for a lot of the rebuild after Meteorfall would certainly benefit him.

“And he doesn’t have _any_ intel on what happened? Where to even start?”

“I didn’t say that. I went down there myself when Reeve first lost the cargo to do my own canvassin’. Found out there’s a dockhand says he saw some shit worth tellin’. We both already know Reeve ain’t never been the type to get his own hands dirty, so that’s what you and me s’posed to do.”

“No robots for this job,” Cloud raises an eyebrow.

Barret snorts amiably. “Ya got jokes.”

Cloud smiles a little crooked. “Any idea who the culprit may be?”

Barret tilts his head, thinking. “I got some suspicions. Think the obvious choice would be Shinra, but that might jus’ be old prejudices kickin’ up.”

Cloud stiffens at the mention of Shinra, willing his mind not to make connections that may not yet be there.

“You think Shinra still has that kind of influence?” he asks to satisfy his own curiosity.

“I think ol’ boy Rufus is sly as a dog,” Barret answers without missing a beat. “But I ain’t gotta clue what kinda resources he’s workin’ with. Seems like it shouldn’t be much anymore.”

Cloud has to keep himself from grunting in disbelief. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Barret glances over at him looking rather skeptical. “What you know ‘bout it?”

Cloud clenches his jaw but tries to remain calm and passive.

“Nothing.”

Barret seems less than convinced, but he drops the subject anyway. “Well, figurin’ out who did do it is why we got to go. So get ya shit together by tonight. We got a ride to catch out to Junon.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I got shit to do tomorrow, I can’t just leave.”

“Do it some other damn day. You gettin’ paid for this job!”

“I didn’t quite catch that part,” Cloud says sarcastically. “I got clients—”

“Whatcha got is less than three hours to get ya ass ready and then we outta here.”

They stare at each other for a few tense moments, Cloud already knowing in the back of his mind that he’d yielded the second Barret walked into the bar.

\---

The ride to Junon is anything but enjoyable. They leave after dark, so not only do they arrive in the early hours of the morning, but the view for the duration is basically nonexistent; untenable for a man that needs to orient himself with his surroundings or face a smattering of nausea and headache.

Barret spends the first hour or two getting Cloud up to speed on the plan once they reach Junon, which certainly helps for a while. Eventually he quiets, though, and Cloud’s attempts to sleep in the ramshackle truck Barret chartered are thwarted at every possible turn. By the time they arrive Cloud is practically catatonic, willing to make a bed out of the nearest bag of garbage on a random resident’s stoop if need be.

They’re dumped off in lower Junon before dawn, Barret having arranged for them to rest at the home of Priscilla, a young girl they’d encountered in years past. Apparently in his travels Barret had managed to stay friendly with her, which Cloud found unsurprising given her proximity in age to Marlene.

They climb the many stairs to her apartment in the dark, Cloud taking care not to topple over the edge in a fatigued daze. To his surprise, Barret pulls a key from behind a dummy wooden slat on the door and shoves it into the lock.

“You aren’t gonna knock?” Cloud blurts.

“She ain’t home. Said we could use the place while she’s away, though.”

“Oh,” Cloud replies, following Barett inside. There’s a glow from the fireplace she kept alight against the back wall and she’d left pillows and blankets folded neatly in front of the folding partisan along the left wall. Everything appears almost exactly as Cloud remembers and he’s surprised to find that feelings of disappointment swell in his chest over not being reacquainted with the charming young girl. He hopes wherever she is that she’s safe and well.

Barret moves for the blankets first, tossing a pillow at Cloud’s gut. His reaction time is a little off due to sleepiness but he clutches it tight after grabbing it.

“Better lay yer narrow ass down. Ya look like hell.”

“It’d be my pleasure,” Cloud answers sarcastically, hand outstretched.

Barret gives him a blanket and then walks across the small room to the right of the fireplace, tossing his own blanket and pillow down sloppily and sitting. Cloud peers at the one Barret handed to him. It’s heavy, sure to be warm, although itchy by the looks of it. He settles on the space along the wall to the left of the fireplace as a decent place to rest, right beside Priscilla’s raised bed which is in direct view of a window. He spreads the covers out rather tidily, laying the pillow against the wall so he can prop himself up on it a bit. Barret snorts.

“Never woulda taken you for the particular type.”

Cloud laughs, crossing his legs at the ankles and folding his arms behind his head. “ _That’s_ bullshit.”

The fireplace is between them so he can’t see Barret’s reaction but he can sense his mild amusement regardless.

“Get some rest. We gotta meet our informant at noon, sharp. Don’t be draggin’ ass.”

Cloud stares up at the ceiling, eyelids heavy as stone, chasing demons back into the dark corners of his mind; demons that this place and its odious familiarity managed to unearth.

“Good night, Barret,” he says as his eyes finally start to close, and just before his mind slips into the welcome darkness of unconsciousness, he’s blessed by the flash of perfect white teeth from an impeccable man in a perfect white suit.

\---

Cloud feels groggy on the elevator ride to upper Junon, having slept less than satisfactorily. Between the floor and the dreams, it seemed that sleep simply wasn’t meant to be. His arms are folded across his chest and the sword holster is slung over his shoulder, loaded for bear. The weight of it is taxing today.

“Reeve _really_ didn’t tell you anything at all about the missing cargo? How did you hear about this contact anyway?” Cloud asks.

“It don’t matter. That’s Reeve’s business. If it was important, I’d let ya know.”

Cloud turns his nose up, insulted. “Oh, so you’re siding with the _actual_ spy?”

“ _Pssh!”_ Barret waves a hand dismissively. “You jus’ full of jokes, turned into a real funny guy!”

“I just wanna know how carefully I should approach this.”

Barret shrugs, looking at Cloud seriously. “Carefully.”

Cloud finds that answer both wholly unfulfilling and slightly unnerving.

“Shi’t, I don’t think the guy’s dangerous or nothin’ but I gotta feelin’,” he trails off, shaking his head. “Well, nevermind that.”

The elevator reaches the summit and Barrett exits without another word. Cloud follows close behind as they enter the blinding light of the hall, bearing left and exiting onto the city streets. They dodge traffic and pedestrians alike as they make the long walk to the docks, Cloud taking care not to injure passersby with any of his jutting blades. It’s a sunny day, warm despite the bite in the sea air, and he is grateful for it. As they move under the shadow of a large ship, the origin of which Cloud can’t discern, he notices they’re not far from the beige building he’d visited on Rufus’ behalf not so long ago. Trotting down a wide set of steps and onto the docks, Barret spots the man they’ve come to see.

He’s standing nervously, hands shoved into his denim jacket pockets, looking anything but inconspicuous. He’s rail thin, a fact which Cloud finds amusing given the man’s profession, with longish jet black hair that clings to his face as though permanently licked by the salty ocean air.

“Keep your eyes open,” Barret says to Cloud without looking at him, and they approach the man side by side, perhaps exuding an ounce of intimidation too great.

“Hey,” Cloud calls, the sound of his voice sending the man shrinking back into his protective wall of crates yet further. He glances anxiously from Cloud to Barret.

“You the guy?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m the guy. Why don’t you tell me an’ my colleague here what we need to know an’ we’ll make this nice and quick.”

The man looks at Cloud again, suspicious. “Wasn’t s’posed to be no other guy.”

“I _said_ he’s a colleague. You rude as hell, how ‘bout I jus’ let the boss know—”

“No! Nah, that ain’t necessary.” He’s clearly agitated, leering at Cloud with no small amount of mistrust. “I got your name.”

“Name?” Cloud inquires.

“Yeah, name, pretty boy. The bitch ya gotta talk to to find out what you wanna know so bad.”

Cloud snarls a bit, stepping forward into the dockhand’s personal space.

“I don’t think he likes the way you’re talkin’ to him. He ain’t the most stable person so maybe you should consider changin’ that tone,” Barret says in a voice that’s almost amused. Cloud looks the man up and down dismissively as he presses his back so hard into the crates it seems he thinks he can disappear into them.

“What’s the name and how the hell did you come across it,” Cloud hisses through a scowl. The man’s eyes dart from Barret to Cloud several times until they rest finally on Barret.

“I-I ain’t answering no extra questions!” he exclaims, almost pleading.

“Don’t be cryin’, shi’t. Cloud, he agreed to give the name an’ that’s it, I got the call from boss man this mornin’,” Barret says, so Cloud takes a shallow step back and folds his arms in front of him. The grimace still stays.

The man swallows hard, standing a little straighter under Cloud’s watchful eye. He still addresses Barret, though.

“It’s a woman. Name’s Cordelia Lange.”

The name means nothing to Cloud. “ _And?”_

“And…you can find her down there,” he curls his arm around the crates to point down the dock at something indistinct. “In that building. She’s the secretary. But you didn’t hear jack shit from me.”

“Yeah, yeah, believe me, we ain’t gonna have trouble forgettin’ ya sorry ass,” Barret waves him away, satisfied with the intel. “Get the hell outta here and don’t open your mouth or he’ll find ya,” Barret nods in Cloud’s direction as the man looks to his left and then his right before passing between them and disappearing up into the streets of the city.

Barret peers down the dock behind Cloud, whose gaze is already fixed on a point in the distance.

“Cordelia Lange. Ain’t never heard of her. Nobody. The name mean somethin’ to you?” Cloud’s lack of response makes Barret prickly. “ _Well?_ You got anything to add, Spikey?”

“Dax Schroder.”

“What?”

Cloud turns to look Barret dead in the eye. “The secretary. She works for Dax Schroder.”

\---

After bribing a local kid to enter the building and do a little harmless surveillance for them, they were able to confirm that Cordelia was in fact inside and on the clock until early evening once the office closes for the day. The sun had mostly set, leaving the dock blanketed in darkness save for the areas harshly lit by work lights left to aid the night crew in their maintenance checks. The fluorescent lights inside the ugly beige building had gone off one by one until the dim glow of what Cloud assumed may be a desk lamp was all that remained.

The realization that Dax Schroder was tied up in this has led Cloud inexorably to the assumption that Reeve’s failed contract was with none other than the man himself. He knows by this point that they’re definitely chasing after something he doesn’t want to hear, but he’s doing his best to put it out of his mind so that all of his emotions don’t rattle through his bones like electricity and compromise his ability to wrap this mission up neatly.

“Should we go inside or wait for her,” Barret asks, both men casting watchful eyes towards the office door from the shadows of the Sister Ray’s foundation; the ballast wall that once bore Shinra’s banner.

“If we wait, it might be tough to corner her without being spotted.” Cloud felt a little uneasy at the prospect of entrapping an unaccompanied woman but the knots in his gut told him it would be worth the moral discomfort.

“You wanna go _in_ there?” Barret looks down at Cloud who’s been crouching low to dodge the watchful eye of a nearby spotlight. “I dunno, might get spotted jus’ as easily. I don’t wanna spook her.”

“And appearing from the fucking shadows to surround her is supposed to keep her calm?” Cloud huffs through his teeth, a judgmental sound that would be difficult to misinterpret.

“Aight, smartass, you lead the way then.”

Cloud silently takes up the mantle of leader, ducking to his right to follow the shadows around the back of the building. They don’t extend all the way, but the cover is just enough keep them obscured from anyone not already looking for unfamiliar faces, and once behind the building they were cast completely in darkness. The structure is a perfect rectangle, the short side of which is pointed out to sea. They follow the darkened long wall to the edge of the dock where the building is nearly flush with the dropoff.

“This is some bullshit,” Barret curses, staring over the edge, his voice nearly drowned out by the sound of choppy, black water. Cloud raps him on the back.

“Too old already?” he teases, turning to face the short wall which is fully illuminated, requiring some speed to cross if they’re to keep from being spotted. He creeps along, back pressed against the dirty siding as best he can manage with his swords still holstered.

“Jus’ cause I ain’t got a death wish don’t make me old,” Barret complains, following behind even more gingerly than Cloud had managed.

They reach the other side and make for the door quickly, snapping it open to dart inside before prying eyes catch them.

The door slams shut with the high pitched crack of cheap craftsmanship and by the time Cloud spots her peeping up from behind the help desk, she’s already staring at them with wide eyes. He remembers those eyes now, made comically large by the glasses she still wears, features made sharp by the tight bun piled atop her head. She’s clearly distressed at the sight of them, gaze falling once to Cloud’s weapons and then to Barret’s prosthetic arm.

“Can I help you gentlemen,” she squeaks, sounding far from the blasé working woman Cloud recalled. He approaches the countertop and leans an elbow onto it, drawing as near to her as he could manage. He was steeling himself for the ugly part of this mission.

“We were hoping you could answer a couple questions for us,” Cloud replies, looking down his nose at her with a menacing glint in his eye.

Barret approaches, cracking the knuckles on his hand for dramatic effect, metal of the prosthetic arm catching the light in a way that draws Cordelia’s gaze from Cloud’s.

“I have it on good authority that you, ma’am, have engaged in some shady business practices on ya boss’s behalf,” he says with faux diplomacy.

“Uh, n-no sir, I don’t know anything about that.”

“You’re lying.” Cloud replies, flat.

Barret nods in agreement. “Seems some cargo goin’ through Mr. Boss Man’s port is comin’ up missin’. Don’t seem like good business if ya ask me.”

She looks at him, pulling back from the desk in her office chair as though she can get away. “You’re wrong, Mr. Schroder would never compromise his reputation with sh-shady business dealings,” she answers nervously, her eyes darting back and forth from Cloud to Barret.

“Shi’t,” Barret elbows Cloud.

“He doesn’t mean Schroder.”

Cordelia looks confused. Cloud leans in again, bent almost completely over the counter.

“He means your _real_ boss. Who do you actually work for?”

“Mr. Schroder _is_ my real boss!” she cries desperately. Cloud is a bit startled by it. Something about her reaction is very convincing.

“That ain’t what we heard.” Barret drops his prosthetic arm on the surface of the help desk, heavy, drumming his fingers across it with sharp, metallic clicks.

She swallows, staring down into her lap, thinking. Cloud is about to throw more empty threats at her when she looks up, eyes glossy with tears.

“I didn’t… _want_ to do it, but it was so much money and they were so _terrifying_ ,” she’s almost pleading.

Cloud and Barret exchange glances.

“What the hell are you talking about money? Who’s _they_?”

“I don’t know. They kept coming by the office for weeks at random. Two guys in suits. They said they work for a wealthy man that would pay me to ‘do almost nothing.’ Just switch a file.”

“Switch a file?” Barret asks, indignant. “And you did it?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Cordelia answers, folding over almost into her own lap. “Mr. Schroder is a good man but I was so afraid…”

“Where’s the file.”

Cloud’s heart feels like it’s pounding in his throat, his expression is blank; unreadable. The woman won’t look up, won’t answer, she just trembles in her chair as though she can will herself to simply vanish.

Cloud slams his hand on the counter. “Where’s the damn file!”

She snaps upright, mortified. “If I show you, he’ll—”

“I don’t give a shit, if you don’t give it to me, I’ll come back there and rip every single one out till I find it myself!” His voice is wild like his eyes and he’s unnerved by the familiar sensation of Mako coursing through his body the way it does when he’s about to lose control. He chokes it down.

“Got damn, Cloud,” Barret says, taken aback by the visceral reaction. “Chill the fuck out, you ain’t gotta—”

Cordelia interrupts his thought by sliding the file across the counter and babbling apologies.

Cloud tears the sealed file open without a moment’s hesitation as Barret protests, suggesting they take it back to Reeve instead. He’s all but deaf now, unable to process any sound outside the ripping of the envelope and the soft flutter of the paper when Cloud slips the main file from the folder. Everything slows, muffles, blurs around the edges as his eyes scan the letters on the page until they cease to make sense to him anymore.

“ _Shit!_ ”

He paces right then left a few steps, nearly smashing into Barret.

“Shit, _son of a bitch!_ ” Before he realizes it he’s launched a fist through the front wall of the counter, Cordelia’s shrieking jarring him from his rage.

“The fuck’s gotten into you?!” Barret is staring at him, harried, in a state of disbelief. “What the hell does it say?”

Cloud shakes the hand that was buried in the splintered wood of the counter and exhales through his teeth, agonized by everything but the punch. He shoves the file into Barret’s chest and tears out of the office, slamming into the door with such force it cracks and loosens at the hinges.

Barret gives chase after glancing at the papers. “Damn. I hate bein’ right sometimes.”

Cloud is already several feet away, making for the safety of the shadows as Barret attempts to quietly call after him.

“Hey! Hey, muthafuck, you SOLDIER types are scary as shit. _HEY!”_

Cloud finally stops and turns, breathing even but heavy, still looking and feeling a little unhinged.

“Did you know this whole time that Reeve’s contract was with Schroder?”

“Of fuckin’ course I did, I didn’t expect he’d be extorted by his own secretary, though.”

“By _Shinra_. By Rufus Shinra,” Cloud corrects him.

“Ya know what I meant. The hell do you care who the contract was with anyway? Don’t even know this man.”

Cloud clenches his eyes shut, weary. “I…wish that was true.”

Barret definitely seems curious now. “So you _do_ know him?”

“I do— _used_ to do business with him but I lost that contract, too,” he shakes his head, giving Barret a guilty look.

“And ya think Rufus is behind it?” Barret asks, leading the conversation as its clear Cloud won’t volunteer any more information.

Cloud clenches his fists, twisting his face into a look of seething anger and determination. Barret raises an eyebrow.

“No. I _know_ he is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, the next chapter will hopefully come more quickly than this one did! Thanks for your patience and continued support <3 and as always, kudos appreciated, comments lusted after :3c


	11. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud has lost control of pretty much everything.

Cloud sits across from Barret in a dive bar not far from the shipyard, hunched over a drink that is far too strong and far too cheap to be remotely satisfying. They'd decided to regroup before heading back to Edge, having revisited Cordelia in the ugly beige office building to set her up with a discreet repairman who would fix the door and the counter and ask no questions about it. Cloud felt a little guilty and brutish for the outburst, so he paid the repairs in full himself, talking Barret down from his plans to have Reeve foot the bill.

Cloud uses Rufus’ stipend just to spite him.

“We gotta figure out how to deal wit this before we get back to Edge. We gotta _agree_.” Barret is leaning over the table towards Cloud, almost comically close.

“I know you’re not gonna like this, but I think we should wait to tell Reeve.”

“You right, I don’t like it,” Barret grunts in protest, looking at Cloud like he’s crazy.

“Let me talk to Rufus first,” Cloud asks, keeping his voice low. He can’t put his finger on it, but he feels exposed here, like everyone is watching them.

“The hell would I do that?! I won’t paid by Rufus Shinra, why you wanna go runnin’ your mouth off to that rich boy?”

“ _Please_ , Barret, I have questions for him; things I may not be able to get out of him if Reeve finds out. He’ll want to act, and we don’t even have any information yet. We don’t even have any word on the missing shipment.” Cloud pleads earnestly, convinced that he can be of more use to Reeve with more facts revealed.

“I don’t know, Cloud. It don’t seem right. Seems like we goin’ behind Reeve’s back,” Barret shifts in his seat, visibly uncomfortable.

Just then Cloud sees a pair of eyes over Barret’s shoulder; a figure that turns and dips into the shadows of the dimly lit bar just as quickly as Cloud had spotted it. He leaps up from his chair, noisily shoving it back with such force that it falls with a clatter, drawing attention from patrons all over the establishment. The hairs on the back of his neck are standing straight up, but scan as he might, he can neither see nor sense any sign of the figure that was there only seconds prior.

“Cloud! _Cloud!_ The hell?” Barret reaches out and grabs his arm with the prosthetic, squeezing harder than a normal man could. “Snap out of it!”

Cloud literally shakes himself from the focused daze, looking down at Barret and drawing his eyebrows into a determined scowl.

“There’s more going on here than meets the eye, Barret. Just give me a day.” He snatches his arm from Barret’s grasp, turning to restore the chair to its upright position. When he peers back at him, their eyes meet, and Cloud can tell Barret is changing his mind.

“Aight, Cloud. Ya got one day.”

\---

To save time, Cloud calls Rufus on the way back to Edge and is somehow able to convince him to meet there despite the request coming so last minute. Cloud had to work his absolute hardest to keep the flirtatious Rufus from unwinding him as he sat only inches away from Barret who was listening intently.

_Do you miss me that badly?_

_No._

_My, it must be deliciously urgent if you need me right away._

_It is._

_Shall I bring an extra pair of gloves?_

_Don’t…_

_Is someone with you?_

_Yes._

_…Are you safe?_

_Of course._

_Should I be jealous?_

_I’ll see you there._

Cloud decided it was best to forgo ‘goodbyes.’

By the time he’s dropped off at Seventh Heaven it’s already late afternoon. He puts Fenrir in neutral and walks it to the corner in an attempt to be as discreet as possible; he simply doesn’t have time to stare down the firing squad that consists of questioning from all three of his domestic compatriots.

Riding straight to Rufus’ apartment near Sector 4 is probably dangerous and he’s surprised Rufus agreed to the terms, but the time frame Barret has put him on demands haste. He remembers quite clearly how to get there, and upon his arrival he calls up to Rufus before even turning off the bike.

“Where can I park her?”

“Just keep an eye to your left.”

Cloud hears the mechanical hum before he sees the source; a sliding door to the left of the security system that was easy to overlook as it was clearly built to blend in with the wall.

“For compact vehicles only,” Rufus chirps. “Do step out once you’re parked. I’ll have to buzz you in.”

Cloud obeys, feeling sudden and acute apprehension as he trudges up the stairs, still unsure of what to say and how in the hell he’s going to say it. Regardless of his state of mind, the moment of truth was upon them both.

“Welcome back,” Rufus greets warmly, studying Cloud intently as he closes the door behind him after entering, pressing his back into it and returning Rufus’ gaze, contemplative.

Words escape him in this moment; once again he’s too enamored by the man wrapped all in white before him, gloved hands already reaching out to lay claim to what they will. One rests upon the side of Cloud’s neck, the other at his hip, gentle.

“It’s been barely a week,” Rufus says, and the way he hums it is almost like a lilt, as though the meaning behind the words couldn’t possibly make him any happier. “And here I was afraid you may never want to come back here again.”

Cloud’s eyes twitch slightly at that but Rufus misses it entirely, having leaned in to press his lips first to Cloud’s forehead, then finding his mouth and placing several soft, sweet kisses there that were all warm breath and full lip. Cloud breathes deeply, unreadable on the outside but mortified on the inside. He can’t remember the last time he was this afraid excluding the stuff of nightmares, and he’d give anything— _anything—_ to just climb into Rufus’ bed and pretend none of what transpired in Junon ever really happened.

“I’ve been thinking about you _constantly_ ,” Rufus goes on, pulling Cloud into him, brushing his lips over the shell of Cloud’s ear, hands grasping warm and needy at his side and neck. Cloud is already ruined by it, drowning in the depths of Rufus Shinra without an easy way out. “I think two weeks may be _too long_ for me, Cloud.”

The way he purrs his name into his ear is what does it. Cloud reaches up with both hands and clutches Rufus’ vest, holding his breath as he tries to find the strength to simply tell Rufus _no._

“ _Rufus,”_ Cloud exhales a little desperately as Rufus wraps his arm around his body, drawing them together tightly and burying his nose in Cloud’s hair. The sound of Rufus inhaling sharply, breathing in the scent of him, makes Cloud’s heart ache. Rufus smiles at the sound of his name on Cloud’s lips.

“ _Yes?_ ” he asks, still holding Cloud close to him.

Cloud sighs, ragged, and presses his palms flat into Rufus’ chest.

“You lied to me.” Finally.

Rufus goes rigid, his touch losing all warmth in but an instant.

“What?” he asks, astonished, pulling away to meet Cloud’s eyes.

Cloud swallows, willing his voice not to tremble in the anger and hurt that he hadn’t fully acknowledged since the initial betrayal was revealed.

“You lied to me. About everything,” Rufus’ hands drop to his sides then and he slips away even as Cloud continues to speak. “Tell me why. Why did you send me to Junon? Why?”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“Don’t lie!” Cloud shouts, taking a step closer to Rufus. “Enough lying, I can’t take anymore. I know about the secretary. I know you stole that contract out from under the WRO. Why did you do it?”

“I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to know,” Rufus says as though he’s making it better. The answer only enrages Cloud further.

“I obviously was not _supposed_ to know! Well, I’m gonna know now. Tell me. Why did you do this? Tell me why I shouldn’t go directly to Reeve and let him know exactly who stole his opportunity from him. I’m sure he’d _love_ to know it was _you_ —”

“Don’t! You can’t do that. He can’t know.”

“Why?”

Rufus presses his lips into a hard line, furious but also aggrieved. He sighs. “I’m trying to _protect_ the WRO.”

“ _Bullshit!_ ” Cloud nearly spits.

“I know you won’t believe a word of it but it’s true. I bent over backwards for weeks trying to convince Schroder to partner with Shinra instead. He wouldn’t have any of it. _Tch_. Proud fool.”

“For what?”

“My operatives have unearthed information that has led me to believe that an entity based in Junon harbors ill will towards the WRO. Reeve is a smart man, but he lacks the kind of resources needed to protect against outside forces. For all I know, the contract itself may simply have been bait.”

Cloud is indignant. “You’re asking me to take a lot on faith.”

“Admittedly, we don’t have much information yet, but you know better than most how skillful Shinra can be at rooting out malevolent adversaries.”

Cloud’s heart is still racing. “You _used_ me.”

Rufus stills, hanging his head. Eventually he nods, and despite Cloud’s anger, the gesture does come across as regretful. “Yes. I did.”

The words threaten to knock the wind out of him. He grits his teeth, and the next sentence comes out a little broken. “Why me?”

“I…couldn’t send one of my own. Assuming we were to win Schroder’s confidence, none of my people could be tied to any wrongdoing. And…” he trails off as though he wishes he hadn’t started the sentence.

“ _And?”_ Cloud urges.

“I was disinclined to go or to send anyone from Shinra in my stead in the event that lives were threatened.”

“So you sent _me?!”_ Cloud barks, clenching his fists as his blood pumps hot in his veins. “You risked _my_ life instead?”

“I know, I know how it looks, Cloud, and I’m sorry,” Rufus throws both hands up, pleading. “But it was the safest alternative. You aren’t affiliated with Shinra so your presence wouldn’t arouse suspicion. On the contrary, in fact, given that you already had a relationship with Schroder. Most importantly, you’re trustworthy. As for the potential danger, it was a slim possibility and—”

“Not so slim that you’d risk your own fucking skin,” he seethes in response.

“ _I understand,_ but truly, Cloud, who left on this planet could best you even if they were foolish enough to try?” Rufus holds his gaze, silently asking for forgiveness, but Cloud is far from willing.

“That’s no excuse. If it was so important, why didn’t you just ask me?”

“The way I asked you to help against the remnants? I’m sure that would have gone over well. Yes, please help me deceive an old colleague of yours that hates me, I’m sure you would have been exceedingly open-minded.”

“ _Fuck you_ , Rufus, you don’t get to play victim here.”

Rufus sighs heavily, clenching a fist in front of him in frustration. “You must understand that this threat is real. The more I tell you, the more it endangers you. I realize I’m to blame for your involvement in this to begin with, but _please_ , believe me. What I withheld, I withheld to keep you and others out of harm’s way, at least until we know more about this situation. Until then, you mustn’t tell Reeve about the extortion. He has to go on thinking that the loss of the contract was simply a change of heart. Nothing will keep him from coming after Shinra if he finds out the truth, and we need more time.” Rufus slips naturally into using his business voice. “Cloud, please. I’m begging you. Many futures ride on this.”

Cloud wasn’t so sure about this story Rufus cooked up. After everything that’s happened over the past months, he may never trust a word out of this man’s mouth again. The anguish in his chest makes him sick to his stomach. Shaking his head, he stares down at his feet.

 “I’ve been such an idiot. Everything this whole time,” he looks up into Rufus’ eyes, unable to keep from trembling, “has it been a lie?”

Rufus winces then, apparently wounded by the grief in Cloud’s voice. Lunging forward, he grasps Cloud by the shoulders and shakes him, bordering on frantic.

“No, not a lie. Nothing else has ever been a lie, Cloud, I swear it. _You_ ,” he cuts himself off, hands clenched so tightly around Cloud’s arms that it starts to hurt him. “You simply _must_ believe me. I didn’t endeavor to…use you. Or make you _feel_ used.”

Cloud shakes his head, wanting to believe him but incapable of doing so. This man uses people and manipulates them daily. He claims to be different; perhaps he even _wants_ to be different, but Cloud has no way of knowing which Rufus Shinra is real and which is a passing façade.

“I’m worth too much to you on paper for me to believe you’ll ever _actually_ give a shit about me,” Cloud says, realizing in that instant how much he desperately wants Rufus to care about him; to stop playing at it and flirting with it, and actually _do_  it.

“Don’t do this,” Rufus whispers, restraint crumbling to dust before Cloud’s eyes. “You’re making a mistake.”

Cloud tries to pull away, but Rufus hangs onto him as though life depends on it.

“Rufus, let go,” he whines, determined to free himself.

“Don’t run from this Cloud, _please,_ ” Rufus begs, but it falls on deaf ears.

“Let me go!” Cloud cries out, wrenching himself from Rufus’ grasp and backing away, hand groping at the door handle. Rufus watches him, silent, face contorted into a look of utter shame. The complete lack of pretense was so raw and jarring that Cloud couldn’t believe the man before him was the same man that greeted him with warm embraces and even warmer words just a short time ago. He opens the door to leave, turning one last time to Rufus.

“I can’t make any promises. And neither should you. This ends here. _We_ end here.”

He slips through the doorway and down the stairwell, leaving Rufus standing absolutely alone.

\---

At the end of the twenty four hours, Cloud decides to go to Reeve alongside Barret and explain what he could in his own words. Even as they open the door to Reeve’s office, he’s unsure just how honest he’s going to be, but it’s clear that, at the very least, what Barret knows is on the table.

Cloud is a bit dazed as Barret steps up to Reeve’s desk, brandishing the extortion letter they found in the file at Junon Harbor. Since he left Rufus’ apartment in Edge, everything seemed blurry; like water was passing over him and he was watching everyone else around him as though from behind a looking glass. Barret clapping a hand over his shoulder snaps him out of his liminal state.

“Right, Cloud?” Barret and Reeve are both looking at him, expectant. Cloud glances at Barret.

“Ah, what was that?”

“You got some info straight from the rich asshole's mouth, yeah?”

“What did Rufus have to say about this, Cloud?” Reeve implores, and Cloud is finding it hard to be disingenuous in this situation.

“Well, according to him, there’s some kind of group…maybe a terrorist organization or something. They’ve got something against the WRO. Rufus seems to think that Schroder’s contract may have been bait.”

“If that’s the case, why wouldn’t he just tell me?”

“Sounds like a buncha bullshit to me,” Barret interjects. “Shinra don’t give a good god damn ‘bout nobody but Shinra.” He crosses his arms, unconvinced.

“Yeah, I thought so, too. It’s hard for me to believe that Rufus wants to help the WRO out of the goodness of his heart, but…some strange things did happen in Junon. Once when I was in Junon doing some work for Shinra, and again when Barret and I were there for the shipment.”

“What strange things?”

Cloud rubs the back of his neck, trying to dance around the parts of the story he doesn’t want anyone to know. “I think I, or _we,_  were followed. Maybe it has something to do with this group that has an ax to grind.”

“Ya got any enemies, Reeve?” Barret inquires.

Reeve snorts at the sentiment, amused. “I would have suggested the WRO’s largest enemy might be Shinra Inc., but rival is probably a better term. This seems…sloppy. Rufus isn’t the sloppy type.”

“Agreed. I think there may be some truth to it, but we should do some investigating of our own. Otherwise, we’re reliant on the Turks,” Cloud suggests tentatively. “But we have to be careful. Rufus can’t know. It’ll complicate shit even more than it already is. He thinks Shinra is better suited to flush the problem out.”

Reeve nods, seemingly following Cloud’s drift. “Right. So we know nothing, we say nothing, we keep Rufus happy. You two report to me anything you find. If Rufus is right, he’s taking a bullet for the WRO for reasons I’ve yet to understand.”

“ _Tch,_ you and me both,” Cloud says sarcastically.

“Cloud, you’ve managed to get close to him in recent weeks, it seems. Keep it that way, and whatever Shinra knows becomes our business as well.”

_Fuck._

“I…don’t think that’s going to be possible.” Cloud’s mouth goes so dry so quickly that he almost starts to cough.

Barret swats him hard on the shoulder, clicking his teeth in annoyance. “Damn, Cloud! You been doin’ all kinda worthless shit for the man lately for nothin’ but cash and now ya wanna back out? Your friends need ya narrow ass to stick it out, so stick it out, Spikey!”

Cloud is so dumbfounded by what’s happening, he thinks he might actually keel over and die. For the briefest moment, he even fantasizes about it; just ending it now before it gets any more confusing and soul shatteringly embarrassing.

_How could you not see this coming? You’re a jackass._

“Fine. I’ll do what I can. But I can’t make any promises.” He glares at both of them, conjuring up his most intimidating face in an attempt to get them to back off.

“Of course, just do what you can. The WRO will be in your debt.”

True to his nature, Reeve sounds honestly appreciative, and for once Cloud doesn’t have to guess at the intentions of his employer.

\---

A week later, on the exact day that he would normally be anxiously awaiting a call from Rufus, he returns to the bar from a delivery. No one is home from the looks of it, so he retires to his room, contemplating what a nap might do for his mood. If he could just get his fingers on the sweet release of unconsciousness, he could bear the rest of this miserable day.

He throws his sword holster down, blades and all, and kicks his shoes off one by one. Just as he’s walking across the room to his bed, a blur of color catches his eye.

There, sitting on his desk, is a bouquet of flowers; some he recognizes and can name, others are utterly foreign to him. They’re wrapped in red ribbon, beautifully arranged, if he’s being honest, and a single card with a handwritten message is attached to them. Cloud takes a deep breath and sits in his chair, finding familiar scents amongst the blossoms that make him immediately light headed. He’s seen these flowers before.

He pulls the card from the ribbon, taking care not to disturb the delicate stems which were clearly well tended to. He finds he fancies the yellow flowers the best for some reason. He raises the card to his eyes and his heart sinks.

_Forgive me.  
         ~R_

They’re _her_ flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> < / 3


	12. Imposter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud receives much more than gifts at Seventh Heaven.

Cloud explains to Marlene that the flowers are from an appreciative customer when she wanders into his room full of questions, scaring the living shit out of him as he jams the card into a pants pocket. She recognizes the flowers right away and asks if they belonged to Aeris. The sound of the name still sticks in his heart like a spear.

“I don’t know,” he says as he gets up, shooing her out and following behind her. “Probably.”

“ _Wow,_ Cloud,” she marvels, “you must be really good at your job if you make people that happy!”

He decides to keep his door closed from now on.

Once she skips noisily down the stairs, Cloud whips his phone out and pauses, absorbing the enormity of what’s sitting in his room on his untidy desk. His heart tightens at the thought of Rufus, or even one doing his bidding, setting foot inside that sacred place amidst rubble and rebar, kneeling at the center to pluck the fragile blooms that rest there, one by one, as if harvesting his very memories from their deepest place of slumber. He’s so off balance by how raw he suddenly feels inside that he can’t even decide if he’s enraged or perhaps worse, touched. Unable to bear the sound of Rufus’ voice yet, he opens his contacts and shoots him a curt text.

_Don’t send me anymore gifts._

He starts to put the phone away, but it buzzes before he’s able to slide it into his pocket.

_As you wish._

His mind summons the precise tone of Rufus’ voice anyhow, wrapping around the words like a long awaited embrace, choking the air from Cloud’s throat and making him immediately heartsick. He puts the phone away.

_Deep breath. Come on._

\---

In the days that follow, Cloud does his best to throw himself into his work, remembering that he promised at some point to clean things up with Rufus and provide Reeve with some sort of surveillance. He still wasn’t sure the extent to which he should engage in such a scheme, but far be it from him to go back on his word now. At the very least, he could inquire further regarding a few of his own probing questions that he hadn’t the opportunity to elucidate upon during their last visit, before he was overcome by the intense weight of his own emotions.

That is, of course, if he could ever bring himself to face Rufus Shinra again.

Barret had returned to his duties abroad, anxious to work some of his leads in Junon, but promised to return directly. That didn’t give Cloud much time to straighten up and confront Rufus before suffering his comrade’s sure-to-be-vocal dissatisfaction. Tifa relentlessly fires questions at him on the daily and he’s losing the ability to understate the severity of the situation. Most days he just stays out as long as possible, creating busy work for himself in the form of extra trips to the market or mechanic, or simply performing routine bike maintenance at a rate perhaps a touch more frequent than one would call ‘routine.’

One evening he makes it back to the bar when it’s empty to find a package at the front stoop. Tifa was probably out, seeing as it was the only night of the week she closes the bar and takes a break, and Cloud couldn’t help but expel a hefty sigh of relief. He sits with the package at one of the empty tables in the bar and opens it, suspicious at the lack of sender address.

To Cloud’s chagrin, whatever is inside is encased in a lavish gift box emblazoned with none other than the Shinra Electric Power Company logo, and he almost chucks the box across the bar just to be spiteful. His curiosity gets the best of him despite his umbrage though, and he lifts the lid from the box to see what’s inside.

“You gotta be shittin’ me.”

Leather gloves bearing the Shinra logo.

\---

The next gift comes during the bar’s operating hours and causes quite the stir.

It’s delivered by a specialty shop on what’s considered the more affluent side of Edge; known for everything from custom accessories to high end gift baskets. It’s gained a reputation for being a good place to start if you need to congratulate or thank someone, or simply lavish attention on a romantic partner.

Not the kind of place Cloud could explain away with any degree of ease.

He stands in horror near the bar, staring at the delivery girl as she sits the parcel in all its trappings upon an empty table. The patrons giggle and make awed noises, eager to know for whom the exquisite gift was meant. Tifa is fixed behind the bar, mouth agape, eyes burning a hole into the back of Cloud’s head as he approaches the girl and signs off on the delivery, turning slowly to it and grimacing as if he was about to stick his head inside a toilet.

The attached card bears the Shinra logo. Fabulous.

It’s a gift basket; a rather pricy one, and through the wrinkled, clear packaging Cloud can see that it consists of all manner of trinkets and inane items. Glassware, wine, what he can only assume is a fake flower arrangement. Essentially, only the most stereotypically romantic set of favors one could assemble.

He takes the basket in his arms in all its crinkly, noisy splendor, walking brusquely across the bar under watchful eyes, stopping at the countertop when he realizes he needs Tifa’s help to lift it. He glances at her, face blazing red, silently begging for her to set him free from this personal hell. She’s gawking at him like he has two heads as she lifts the collapsible end of the counter, prompting Cloud to lunge forward and straight up the stairs without uttering a word about the entire event.

Once he slams the door shut behind him with his foot, he sits the basket down on the floor at his side, setting a land speed record for how quickly one could locate a phone and make a call. He doesn’t even feel apprehensive at the prospect of Rufus’ voice and how the sound of it might hit his ears; he simply wants to scream.

“Are we on speaking terms now?” Rufus asks sardonically, though he’s probably genuinely curious.

“I told you not to send me anymore damn _gifts!_ ” Cloud shouts without shouting, terrified that Tifa may be just outside the door.

Rufus laughs. “Anymore? Much as I would love to take credit, I sent a single gift.”

“I’m so sick of your bullshit, Rufus. The fucking wine and shit and the…gloves…” Cloud trails off, a touch humiliated when he remembers briefly how he reacted to the leather stretched around Rufus’ fingers in trysts past.

“ _Oh?”_ Rufus asks, suddenly rapt. “Do you have an admirer? I’m quite _jealous,_ ” he exhales the word like a sweet toxin.

“You _really_ expect me to believe you aren’t responsible?” Cloud laughs ruefully. “This shit is _plastered_ in Shinra logos, how am I supposed to expl—”

“Shinra logos?” Rufus cuts him off straightaway. All the flirtation and whimsy drain from his voice as though someone opened the flood gates.

Cloud is still caught up on his last thought, brain fumbling over the words in an attempt to catch up to wherever Rufus’ mind had leapt.

“Y-yeah, on the gift box, the basket; hell it’s even embroidered on some of the gifts themselves.”

Rufus is quiet but Cloud can sense an urgency on the other end of the receiver.

“I never sent anything which might tie you to Shinra.”

“But…”

Suddenly, a terrible clarity comes crashing down over Cloud’s head, merciless.

“Are you at the bar?” Rufus asks.

“Yeah, why?”

“Don’t leave. I’ll be there shortly.”

\---

Cloud stayed in his room, paralyzed, sitting on the end of his bed for who knows how long, wondering if Rufus would actually show up. Ultimately he decided that Rufus was not the kind of man to say any old thing for kicks, and that it was highly likely he would have a lot of explaining to do before the night was over.

He wants to hide in his room like a child but there’s nothing that can be done to stop Rufus once he’s made up his mind, so he eventually reappears downstairs to help Tifa in the bar despite the fact that it was a fairly slow evening. No sooner does he make it down the stairwell than Tifa shoves him back into it, repeatedly jamming her finger into the hollow just below his collarbone.

“What the _hell_ is going on here?!” she demands in a hushed but angry tone, deeming the occasion curse-worthy.

Cloud throws a hand up in his own defense, rubbing the spot where she poked him with the fingertips of his other hand.

“ _Shit_ , Tifa, that hurts, chill out,” he dares, realizing immediately that the choice of words was wrong.

“ _You_ chill out, don’t tell me to chill! You’re hiding something, aren’t you? Was _that_ from Rufus Shinra, too?” she asks sarcastically, not realizing she’s almost close. Cloud is relieved he doesn’t have to lie.

“ _No!_ I don’t know who it’s from, it’s complicated,” he considers telling her that Rufus is probably going to show up, but this seems like horrible timing and he’ll feel like a jackass if it turns out not to be true. He decides to let _that_ piece play out how it may.

Tifa half turns, letting the bar business drag her attention away from the conversation a bit.

“How can you know it’s complicated and yet not know who it’s from?” Just then Marlene dips under the cutout beneath the counter where it lifts to allow access, dirty glassware in hand.

“Tifaaa,” she whines, “Denzel won’t help me clear off the tables!”

Tifa grits her teeth at Cloud, answering Marlene without turning to face her. “I’ll be there in a second, sweetie.”

“Let me help,” Cloud offers as a truce.

“You can help all you want but you’re not off the hook,” Tifa turns then, calling to Denzel from across the bar.

The night goes on without incident till the end of the evening. The doors aren’t locked yet; as a matter of fact, they’re still in the midst of operating hours, however its getting late and the night was rather slow to begin with. It’s been raining hard for the last hour and is projected to continue, so prospects for making much more money are grim. Tifa is polishing glassware behind the bar as Cloud sits in front of her, lazily following suit. Denzel and Marlene have taken to their cleaning duties, making mop water and wiping down tables and chairs dutifully. Cloud buffs forcefully at a pint glass as though he’s wiping away his errant guilt.

“I know we haven’t talked in a while, Tifa,” he starts, eyes still cast down at the task at hand. “And I know I owe you a lot of answers, it’s just…”

When he looks up to meet her eyes, he finds that she’s not remotely interested in what he has to say. She’s standing stock still, hands grasping a wine glass and a rag, face awash in confusion as she stares towards the front of the bar. Cloud is perplexed for the briefest of moments until he hears Denzel’s voice somewhere behind him, followed by the steady patter of rainfall.

As Cloud rotates in the barstool, he’s met with a familiar gaze that never fails to send his heart rocketing up into his throat.

“Good evening,” Rufus says, voice as rich and smooth as silk. “I hope we’re not intruding.”

The door clicks shut behind Rude, the last person to file in after Rufus and Reno. He’s shaking out a black umbrella, clearly meant for his employer alone as the two Turks seem not to have escaped the downpour unscathed. He looks down at the water pooling on the bar floor as he leans it up against the door frame, glancing sheepishly across the bar at Tifa.

“Sorry.”

“I-it’s fine,” she stammers in response. “ _Cloud?”_

He peers over his shoulder at the woman clearly desperate for clarification, and shrugs. The sound of Rufus’ footfalls cause him to turn his attention back to the man all dressed in white, catching Marlene dipping over to the mess on the floor with a mop from the corner of his eye.

Cloud is holding his breath when Rufus stops to his left, close enough to sit in the stool beside him but electing to stand. He looks at Cloud, feigning professionalism on the surface even though Cloud can sense the indecency swimming beneath. He turns to Tifa abruptly.

“Is the house still serving?” he asks politely.

Tifa snaps out of a daze, nearly dropping the glass in her hand. “Yes, of course,” she answers awkwardly. “What’ll you have?”

“Gin. Top shelf.” He smiles at her a little too courteously.

Cloud reddens a bit when Tifa gives him a look, he doesn’t like that he can see her thinking behind her brown eyes. She turns and pulls the best bottle of gin down, grabbing a lowball glass and setting both items before Rufus with a clink. Rufus raises two fingers in the air.

“Two glasses, please,” he asks, taking a seat beside Cloud finally. Tifa pauses for a long time, looking from Rufus to Cloud as she clambers internally for an explanation. She slides another lowball before them, retreating slowly and crossing her arms over her chest.

Cloud knows he should say something, should try to take the lead, but he’s still in awe of the fact that Rufus is really here.

“I hope you don’t mind, I have to borrow his ear for a while,” he says somewhat lively as he pours himself and Cloud a double. “Would you mind tending to them for me?” He leans his head back to indicate Rude and Reno over his shoulder, still standing guard a couple yards back.

“You sure, boss?” Reno asks, hesitant. Neither of them looks like they want to be here but the potential for alcohol seems to brighten Reno’s mood.

Rufus takes a languid sip from his drink and Cloud tries not to watch the way his throat contracts as he swallows. He’s unsuccessful.

“It’s quite alright.” He sits the glass back down. “We won’t be going anywhere tonight anyway.”

“ _What?!”_ Cloud and Tifa both exclaim in unison.

Rufus smiles wide and laughs; husky and masculine in a way that nearly makes Cloud hard. He leans into Cloud, rapping him on the shoulder with the back of his hand. “Come now, Cloud. We have our reasons. I think you, and by extension this establishment and its beautiful young proprietress, are in danger. Oh, and,” he points a finger behind himself lazily, “that would also include the little ones.”

“Danger?” Tifa asks.

“Yes, I’d be happy to explain once my men have had a drink.”

Tifa rolls her eyes, uncharacteristically rude for her, and stamps over to Reno and Rude to take a drink order. They chatter excessively and tease her as they sit at a far table, Reno clearly giving her a hard time just for the fun of it.

“How are you?” Rufus asks, tone low and sultry, leaping at the first opportunity to probe without Tifa’s vigilant scrutiny.

“Why couldn’t you tell me any of this on the phone,” Cloud ignores him. “We are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves.”

“That wouldn’t be much fun, would it?”

“You’re being reckless. It’s not safe for you to come all this way,” Cloud starts but Rufus cuts him off with the wave of a gloved hand.

“Now you sound like Tseng,” he winces as he takes the next drink, polishing it off.

“Well good, he’s smarter than you are, obviously,” Cloud furrows his brow, swallowing the double all at once.

“My goodness,” Rufus muses. “Are you a nervous drinker?”

“You drive me to drink,” Cloud complains as he pours another double for the both of them.

 _To hell with this faking bullshit_.

Tifa returns to rummage around behind the bar for glasses and a bottle of whiskey, and then departs for the two Turks again.

“While you’ve been ignoring me, I’ve been continuing to look into the group based in Junon. I’m disturbed by this situation with the gifts. I fear they may have caught onto our relationship.”

“ _Relationship?”_ Cloud asks under his breath.

“They know we’re affiliated, at least on some level. Since I removed the WRO from the equation, I’ve made a target out of myself. And…given the nature of your gifts, it seems they know we’re affiliated _intimately.”_

Cloud thrusts a hand through his hair, mortified. He takes another gulp of gin.

“Fucking hell.”

“Indeed.”

“Aren’t you afraid they’re following you?” Cloud inquires.

“It’s a slim possibility, but that’s why I brought muscle. There’s no indication that they’ve any physical presence in Edge quite yet, although the reason why still escapes me.”

“It seems if they want the WRO, this is the first place they should have come.”

“I thought so as well,” Rufus stares into the lowball glass, thinking. “I’m missing something. But regardless, I couldn’t stay quietly at Healen. Not after your call.” He swallows, and the slightest hint of vulnerability can be seen through the cracks in his façade.

“You’re worried,” Cloud says quietly. “About me.”

Rufus tilts his head, glancing over at Cloud with heavy eyelids. “ _Yes.”_

They share a pregnant stare for a long while before Tifa breaks it, clattering around behind the bar and firing questions at Rufus, emboldened by her brush with Reno and Rude. They’re playing a drinking game behind them, giving Denzel and Marlene needless chores like finding a deck of cards and trying to build a tower with them.

Rufus deftly answers her questions without lying, enough to satisfy her curiosity, glazing satisfactorily over the true nature of their relationship and sending her on her way up the stairs, promising that the fools behind him would clean up and keep sufficient lookout. He assures her the children are safe, and even after the horrific things Shinra has put them all through in this life, he is able to placate her in a way Cloud never can.

After Cloud has wrangled the kids and sent them moping off to bed, he returns to Rufus’ side and their third round. Reno and Rude keep their respectable distance, and at this point Cloud figures this is as close to ‘alone’ as he and Rufus were going to get.

“She is fiercely loyal,” Rufus says as Cloud descends back onto the stool. “Are you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cloud drinks half the shot, eager to feed the buzz already enveloping his brain.

“I wonder if I should be jealous. Or if perhaps I could sweep her off her feet and make _you_ jealous, hm?” He taunts Cloud as he swallows the third shot whole, pouring himself yet another. Cloud thinks it may be the first time he ever sees Rufus right drunk.

“Shut the hell up,” he snarls. “You _and_ your entourage can stay the hell away from her.” Cloud knows Rufus is teasing but he bristles around the edges anyway.

“ _Oh my,_ I think I _am_ rather jealous!” Rufus giggles warmly, a pleasant flush on his face from the alcohol. Cloud is furious at how easily he’s smitten by it. “I doubt you defend me that fiercely.”

“Well, she doesn’t make it a habit to lie to my face, so that helps,” Cloud finishes the rest of the shot, and when he sits it down with a clank Rufus immediately refills it.

“I deserve that,” he replies, melancholy. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I am jealous. I find lately that I’m jealous of _anyone_ that merits your attentions.”

Rufus’ eyes dart up to meet Cloud’s, a flutter of lashes that makes him suddenly weak, very weak. The alcohol is making him forget his surroundings.

“We can’t talk about this unless we’re alone.”

“It’s pouring outside. Where do you suggest we go?” Rufus raises the glass to his lips and pauses.

Cloud looks over at Reno and Rude who are both still drinking and laughing, knowing that they’re paying attention despite their laissez-faire nature. He slides from the stool and takes the fourth shot all at once, and this time it burns a little. He reaches out and grasps Rufus by one of his lapels, tugging lightly. Eagerly.

“Upstairs.”

\---

Rufus gave the Turks explicit instructions to clean up after themselves and keep watch downstairs, taking turns sleeping. Cloud threw them some blankets and apologies, too drunk to give a shit if they were judging him when he grabbed the bottle of gin and two glasses, calling after Rufus at the foot of the stairs. He locks them both in his room, sitting the bottle and glasses on his desk beside the flowers which were wilted, save for the ones from the church.

“Astonishing,” Rufus murmurs, staring at them.

Cloud casts his eyes away before his mind wanders someplace dark. “Yeah.”

“Did it work?”

“Did what work?” Cloud asks, sitting on the edge of his bed and removing his shoes. If he was sober, he might care that his room is embarrassingly empty and in some disarray, but for now stripping Rufus of his brilliant white suit is all that’s really on his mind. It’s so bright it’s hurting his eyes.

“Did they compel you to forgive me?” he asks, sounding utterly defenseless.

Cloud tries to contemplate the question, but all he can feel is irritation and arousal. “I don’t know yet.”

Rufus removes his jacket and hangs it on the back of Cloud’s desk chair, following quickly with the vest. He walks over to Cloud but doesn’t sit quite yet.

“You’re still angry with me.”

“I don’t trust you. It doesn’t matter if I’m angry anymore.”

Rufus sighs, trying his best to prostrate himself before Cloud.

“Will you at least let me try to win that trust?”

“Go ahead,” Cloud challenges, looking up at him with dead eyes.

“I did come all this way to try and help protect you, though I know you ultimately don’t need it. I’ll do what I can. But I also…” he trails off for a few seconds, stepping forward and kneeling before Cloud to rest his hands on either of the man’s thighs. The look in his eyes is pleading, pretense shattered, and Cloud’s stomach practically turns inside out. “I came because I needed to see you again. I wanted to…to touch you again, _god_ , Cloud, you’ve ruined me.”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Cloud chokes, grasping Rufus by one of the wrists and breaking their gaze. “Don’t look at me like that. You did this.”

“I did, yes. I’ll take that blame. I pursued you when perhaps I shouldn’t have, I lied to you and I’m responsible for pushing you away. But I thought, perhaps foolishly in retrospect, that you wanted me to chase you. That you wanted _me_.”

Cloud is still looking away when Rufus squeezes him by the thighs.

“ _Didn’t you?”_

Cloud turns to him, full faced, pausing only seconds before descending into Rufus, arms wrapped roughly around his neck, mouths drawn together like two pieces of an incomplete puzzle, made whole only when they were locked together nice and tight, revealing at last the larger picture that they both strained to see in the absence of the other. Rufus clings to Cloud’s legs like he might slip off the face of the planet without him there as an anchor, collapsing into his body in sheer relief. He moans hungrily into Cloud’s violent kiss, teeth clicking together clumsily as Cloud searches deep inside him with his tongue, nearly suffocating him in his embrace. Cloud kisses Rufus as though he seeks to devour him, leaving his lover red lipped and drooling lasciviously when he finally pulls away.

He drags Rufus up from the floor by his collar, rough, depositing him on the bed on his back. He’s drunken by the severity of his own lust, fueled by the gin and the anger and the hurt, feeling the want inside his body more keenly than ever before. He rips Rufus’ shirt apart, muscles in his arms flexing as buttons pop off left and right, summoning a surprised gasp from the man beneath him. He peels it up and over Rufus’ head, winding it around his wrists and tying it off sloppily, pinning him to the bed as he sinks his full weight onto him.  

Rufus gazes up, willing, leaving his wrists lying limp on the bed above his head. He utters not a word as Cloud curls down to sink his teeth into the tender flesh of Rufus’ neck, grabbing him by the upper arms and squeezing tight. Cloud is overcome by something ravenous, sucking hard and biting at the skin of Rufus’ chest and collarbone and neck, leaving marks of all kinds and drawing blood once or twice. Rufus cries out in both surprised pain and abject pleasure, writhing beneath the strength of Cloud’s full-bodied grip on him.

Cloud strips Rufus of the rest of his clothes, towering over him to leer at his naked body; his fresh markings, his makeshift restraints, the way his chest heaves and his cock twitches. Cloud scans him in his entirety, gaze finally resting on his face.

His face. He’s already wrecked. Open mouthed and panting, pink with flush and starved for attention.

“ _Cloud,_ ” he mewls over and over again until Cloud can take no more. He wraps his fingers around Rufus’ throat and squeezes, coaxing perhaps the most intoxicating sound from him that he’s yet heard. They lock eyes as Cloud loosens his grip, but Rufus moans unintelligibly again, freeing his legs from between Cloud’s knees and wrapping them around his body. Cloud breathes deeply, squeezing a little harder this time.

“You fucking _want_ to be punished, don’t you?” Cloud asks through clenched teeth, maddened by the way Rufus responds to the pressure of his hand around his neck. Rufus shuts his eyes in response, and never has he looked this way for Cloud before. Never has he given this much of himself to Cloud, utterly and fully, without question.

With his free hand, he reaches into his own pants and frees his cock, eager to give Rufus exactly what he wants and then some. He slides two fingers into Rufus’ mouth, pressing down on his tongue, never once letting go of his throat. Rufus sobs, jutting his hips up into nothing, because Cloud has given him nothing, and so he sobs again in frustration as the saliva in his mouth builds to its apex, spilling out at the corners and running down the sides of his jaw. When Cloud finally removes his fingers, they’re dripping wet and sloppy, followed by strings of spit that snap and land across Rufus’ lips.

“You won’t find any lube in this house, so you’ll have to do your best with this,” he speaks low, lips only inches from Rufus’ open mouth as he slides his fingers inside the tight ring of Rufus’ body, thrusting them inside and stretching him open almost immediately. Rufus whimpers, arching into the touch that he’s been craving for weeks, moans morphing to raspy chokes whenever Cloud decides to clench his fist at random as he prepares Rufus for the full might of his dick.

“ _Cloud,”_ Rufus manages to sigh. “ _Please, touch me,”_ he begs, wrists wriggling in their restraints as his hips twitch, wanting. He’s pleading with Cloud through the look in his eyes, but when Cloud takes a look down at Rufus’ glutted cock, already so slick with precome that there’s a strand of it clinging to his belly from the tip of his head, his expression darkens.

“ _No,”_ he says, pulling his fingers from Rufus’ insides and removing his hand from his throat. Rufus is beside himself as Cloud grabs him by the hips, effortlessly sheathing his entire length inside the man’s body in one strong stroke that sends lightning up Rufus’ spine and a sharp wail from his throat. Cloud claps a hand around his neck again, squeezing to keep him from making any more noise. He grips Rufus by the cock and pumps hard, curling his fingers tight around his cries when they try to spill out, snapping his hips hard into his ass. He lifts Rufus a few inches from the bed by the neck, bearing down into him again; only aware he’s broken the skin when he can taste the metallic warmth of blood spilling into his mouth. He lifts his head, growling curses into Rufus’ ear as he fucks him unabashedly, aware that Rufus is almost there already.

He presses him back into the mattress, groaning at the sight of him, and just when Cloud releases his hand from around Rufus’ dick, Rufus comes silently, tears streaking across his face as he paints himself in sticky, white ribbons. Cloud has planned it this way, freeing Rufus’ throat from his mighty grasp and in so doing he wrenches the last ragged sighs of his orgasm from his lungs. He’s exhausted; overstimulated and oversexed, and only now can Cloud take what he wants.

He rears back on his haunches, lifting Rufus’ bottom half from the bed as he pushes both hands behind the man’s knees. He plunges inside him without mercy as Rufus begs for everything _except_ for him to stop, blathering anything from apologies to entreaties, cursing, moaning, nearly crying, until finally Cloud knows he’s only seconds from coming. With a single motion he pulls out of Rufus, who cries out as Cloud comes all over his chest and stomach, mixing his seed with Rufus’ in a way that makes him look deliciously used.

Cloud nearly collapses over him, bracing himself on the bed as blood rushes back into his brain. He’s completely conquered by his emotions and their detestable rawness, the gin having stripped him of the ability to fight back the burning sensation in his eyes.

The look on Rufus’ face is beautiful; a rare amalgam of content and mournful.

“You fuck me like you hate me,” he murmurs.

Cloud is visibly unnerved, meeting Rufus’ eyes and shaking his head ‘no’ somewhat emphatically.

“It’s because…I don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, kudos appreciated; comments lusted after :3c


	13. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud continues to explore the nature of his relationship with Rufus while attempting to stay on task.

Cloud was pulling the shirt from Rufus’ wrists when there was a knock at the door, sharp and urgent. Snapping his head in the direction of the sound, he sits back, giving Rufus just enough room to lift himself onto his elbows. He’s still a mess of bite marks and fluids, the sight of which almost makes Cloud dizzy when he looks back down at the man.

“ _Shit,”_ he curses as Rufus extends a hand to Cloud’s lips absentmindedly, the scent of leather throwing him even further off balance.

“ _Cloud_ ,” Tifa’s voice whispers from the other side of the door. “Cloud, are you in there? _Answer the door!_ ” She raps three more times.

To Cloud’s surprise, Rufus remains silent as if waiting for direction, so he seizes the opportunity.

“Get dressed,” he commands quietly, hoping to minimize the possibility that Tifa may accidentally witness some scope of Cloud’s unchecked depravity. He rises from the bed, Rufus following obediently after, and pads over to grasp the door handle, waiting a few beats for Rufus to pass behind him and disappear into his bathroom. Cracking it just a few inches, he steps into Tifa’s eyeshot, blocking her view of the interior entirely.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

She’s agitated, unable to hide her mounting suspicion. The events of the evening have clearly rattled her from her normal calm.

“I heard voices,” she says as though it will be news to him. “Is _he_ in there?”

Cloud’s heart pounds in his ears with such force he thinks his head may explode. He was going to tell the truth anyway, but his guilty expression betrays him before he has the chance.

“ _What_ is he doing in there?! Are you insane? Are you—”

“Look, I got a lot of questions I need him to answer that I couldn’t ask in front of _those two,_ ” Cloud nods in the direction of the stairs. “I know this is all weird but just trust me, I need to be alone with him.”

Tifa tilts her head, wearing a shocked look that simply reeks of dubiousness. He clenches his jaw, realizing just how unfortunate the choice of words had been.

“Cloud…are you _sure_ this is a good idea?”

“Tifa, I _swear_ I’ll tell you everything when I get the chance, but now isn’t a good time.”

_Lie._

She sighs heavily, intensely frustrated but seeming to give in, when the sound of running water could suddenly be heard from the bathroom. Cloud is immobilized by an outright jolt of horror and embarrassment.

Tifa gasps so loudly it startles him. “Is he in your _shower?!”_ She presses one hand into the door, no doubt queueing up her next half dozen probing questions, but Cloud shoves it shut and locks it before she can strip him of anymore of his dignity.

“Good night, Tifa,” he says to the door, knowing she’d be unhappy in the morning but simply unfit to indulge the conversation any further.

He stalks across the room in order to investigate, and sure enough, Rufus has put the shower on full blast and is already inside, having steamed up the entire bathroom to the point of mugginess. Cloud sucks his teeth, annoyed.

“You just don’t know how to function if you’re not being a _son of a bitch_ , do you?” Cloud asks a little loudly over the hum of rushing water. He can hear Rufus snickering from behind the frosted glass shower door.

“I suppose I was meant to languish gratefully in your spit and come,” he remarks, returning to his recognizably cruel, cutting tone. “How _perverse_ you are, after all,” the teasing continues.

Cloud ignores the way the words sting him, trying in vain not to let Rufus throw him too far off course.

“I would have taken care of it,” he answers earnestly, disheartened over the fact that he was robbed of the opportunity to return a kindness that Rufus had once shown him.

The water cuts off abruptly.

“Cloud,” he speaks in a hushed tone, sounding almost tender; the way one might rouse a lover from a deep sleep.

The shower door slides open as Rufus reveals himself in his entire splendor; skin tinged a pleasant red and glistening wet. He forces a hand through his dripping hair, gazing at Cloud beneath damp lashes that cling together in a way that makes them look even longer and fuller than usual. Steam still rises from his naked body, and Cloud is helpless to withstand the urge to study him, marveling again at the utter work of art that stands in his shower. His impassioned bites are clean but visible, their sinful beauty only rivaled by the marks he’d sucked into the soft flesh of his chest. When Rufus cranes his neck back just a bit, Cloud is all but conquered by the bruises that lay there in the perfect shape of his hand. He inhales so sharply he winces, and the reaction is not lost on the young President.

“Can I have a towel?” he purrs through a smile, fully aware of the effect he was having on his host.

Cloud pulls a clean towel down from the rack beside his sink, thankful for a task that forces him to turn away from Rufus for a few merciful seconds. He keeps his eyes on Rufus’ face as he returns, handing the towel over just as he’s overcome by the clean scent of him—the scent of himself, really—on this other man. It was deliciously peculiar.

Rufus takes the towel and wraps it around his waist, thanking Cloud. A bite on his collarbone that broke the skin seeps a little blood, and without thinking Cloud leans forward to press his lips to it, reliving his euphoria momentarily as he tastes the metallic fluid on his tongue yet again. He pulls away from Rufus’ skin with the soft sound of a gentle kiss and finds that Rufus is smiling at him rather sweetly, as if amused.

“Are you going to force me to take another?” he nods his head sideways to indicate the shower. Cloud flushes when faced with his own lack of restraint in the moment, remaining silent as he shakes his head. Rufus takes Cloud’s chin in his hand, sliding a thumb over his bottom lip before leaning forward to kiss him full on the mouth. Cloud delights in the way the fresh shower has made Rufus’ lips feel warm and new, like his mouth is the first thing to have ever touched them.

Cloud pulls away when he senses heat building in his groin again, giving Rufus a hasty flash of the eyes as he turns toward the bedroom.

“I’ll give you some privacy.”

He closes the bathroom door behind him, making good on his offer. He’s gotten in the habit of keeping some personal hygiene products in the drawer of his bedside table since visiting with Rufus on the regular; one too many amorous dreams about the man led him to the conclusion that safe was better than sorry. Not long after cleaning himself up a bit, he gathers some clean clothes to wear before realizing that Rufus may need some as well.

After dressing hastily in a pair of grey sweatpants alone, Cloud rushes to the dresser in his closet, pulling each drawer open in search of something that might be remotely suitable for a guest like the one still in his bathroom, knowing that no such item exists in this room, or this bar, or even this block of Edge to be perfectly honest. He turns placidly at the sound of Rufus emerging from the bathroom, closing the drawers one by one.

“You need clothes,” Cloud says matter-of-factly.

Rufus is mostly dry except for his hair, but the damp towel has been wrapped around his waist again. He looks down at it as though he hadn’t noticed the lack of dress.

“Do I?” he asks facetiously, glancing back up at Cloud as if to challenge the sentiment.

Cloud sighs, and Rufus doesn’t wait for an answer. He strolls over to the desk and pours himself another drink, sipping it as he turns to face Cloud again.

“Drink?”

Cloud raises a hand in rejection, closing the distance between him and the bed.

“I’ve had enough for one night,” he answers as he lies back against his pillows, already pulling blankets up over his hips.

Rufus balks a bit at that, swallowing the shot whole and returning the glass to its place on the desk.

“I suppose that means the fun is over,” he sighs, and to Cloud’s surprised pleasure, he removes the towel and throws back the sheets of the bed, crawling into the crook of Cloud’s arm and resting his head on his chest. Cloud had opened his arms automatically, not really understanding what the hell he was doing, but now he’s pulling sheets and blankets up over them as Rufus wraps arms and legs about his body, sinking into the warm refuge of Cloud’s side.

“Can’t all be fun and games,” he attempts to joke, realizing that what is happening is entirely ephemeral and beside the point of Rufus’ visit.

“I know,” Rufus replies, sounding a little melancholy. The way his breath dances across Cloud’s chest gives him a chill.

They share a pregnant silence for a long while, during which Cloud considers how he can broach the subject of the pretext behind Rufus’ visit; which questions he should ask, and in what order he should ask them. He’s heavily regretting the several shots of gin when Rufus fidgets beneath his grasp.

His grasp. Cloud is suddenly aware that he’d been absentmindedly running his fingers up and down the nape of Rufus’ neck, affectionate. Blushing at himself, he takes a deep breath, resting the hand heavy in the bend between the man’s neck and shoulder.  

“How long do you think they’ve known about me?” Cloud asks suddenly. “About… _us._ ”

“Truth be told, I’ve been suspicious ever since Schroder broke the contract with you.”

Cloud grunts a little sharply.

“ _I know,”_ Rufus responds to the displeased sound as though Cloud had literally said _I told you so._ “You can be furious with me for as long as you like. I’ll endure it. And I _do_ still plan to fix that situation, just so you know.”

Cloud hasn’t the wherewithal to argue over the finer points.

“I had no proof, though,” Rufus continues. “Or rather, my efforts to dig up any information regarding that particular development were unsuccessful.” He slides the arm that was draped over Cloud’s middle until his palm rests on Cloud’s stomach.

The feeling of Rufus touching him without the gloves made his heart rate quicken. It’s happened in the past, but the rarity of it gives it power.

“What benefit could they possibly get out of sending me a bunch of fake bullshit?”

“I’ve been trying to figure that out ever since you called. Perhaps to intimidate me? Or were they merely testing the validity of a theory? I don’t know. It worries me.” Rufus cranes his neck to look up at Cloud then, the worry he’d just referenced plainly written on his face. “I’m seriously considering staying in Edge temporarily.”

Cloud feigns surprise in order to hide the way his heart feels suddenly light. “You aren’t afraid you’ll be an easier target? I thought these people were potentially dangerous.”

“Possibly, but having to come back and forth, forcing _you_ to come back and forth,” he pauses, casting his eyes away from Cloud, guilty. “It’s a risk I can no longer bear to take. The trip is too long and you’re too stubborn not to take it alone. There’s nothing at Healen that can’t afford to wait. Edge will put me in close proximity to precious resources in the event that this… _cell_ becomes active here.”

Cloud considers the situation in silence for a few seconds, during which Rufus begins to kiss him lightly on the chest. Cloud suppresses a reluctant smile at the sight of it.

“What do they want, Rufus?” he asks as though the man already has the answer.

Their eyes meet again, the President looking slightly bewildered.

“I’ve yet to understand.”

Cloud believes him.

He wonders for a moment how much more he should ask, afraid that too many questions would reveal how deeply entrenched in Reeve’s plans Cloud has become.

“You look like something is on the tip of your tongue,” Rufus says, hushed, eyes narrowing.

“Shipments are…going missing from that port. Do you have anything to do with that?”

“Of course not. As I’ve always said, I have Edge’s best interest in mind, as well as my own. Harming the regular flow of business is just as detrimental to Shinra as its rivals.”

Cloud furrows his brow, cocking his head to one side. “You don’t seem concerned about perception when it comes to extortion.”

Rufus brushes it off guiltlessly.

“Desperate times.”

Cloud doesn’t feel at ease; he’d almost rather Shinra had something to do with it instead of whatever this new threat turned out to be.

“So, they’re stealing cargo,” Cloud says, bright lights of realization shining on something in the back of his mind; something as yet uncovered. He can see the wheels turning behind Rufus’ icy blue eyes.

“We must find out what’s so valuable to them, don’t you think?”

Cloud suddenly regrets the direction the conversation has taken, trying instead to back down and somehow steer Rufus toward another topic before he’s drawn into any more of his plans.

“I’ll leave the espionage to you, I’m not interested.”

“Yes, that’s probably for the best. I don’t want to involve you any further.” The hand at Cloud’s stomach slides up to his chest as Rufus rests his head there yet again. “I’ll have my men focus on the missing shipments. I have a feeling that will lead us where we need to go.”

The weight of Rufus on his sternum is oddly pleasant to Cloud, and he’s wondering if the severity of the situation will dawn on him much later when his unapologetic euphoria fades. Rufus is tracing small circles on Cloud’s skin with his fingertips, and every few moments he can feel the tiny brush of lashes when Rufus blinks.

“I’ll let you know what I find,” Rufus says quietly. “As penance.”

For some reason the sound of his voice cleaves straight through Cloud, making him faint with heartache. Suddenly, the images of bites and bruises and blood he left on Rufus’ skin come rising to the fore of his mind, and he curls his hand gently around Rufus’ neck to stroke the markings, repentant.

Rufus relaxes, bearing his throat as he stretches to accommodate the touch. Somehow, based on body language alone, Cloud knows they’re ruminating on the same thing.

“I shouldn’t have.”

“I was owed.”

Cloud nearly smiles, remembering every time he’s had to look in the mirror over the past weeks and figure out how far he should zip his collar that day. “Still,” he replies finally, “I let my emotions get the best of me.”

“If I’d wanted you to stop, I’d have made it clear,” Rufus reassures him, tightening the grip his legs have around Cloud. “And anyway, I like the idea of your emotions getting the better of you. I’ll have you eating from my hand again in no time.” His voice ferries the words to Cloud’s ear on a satisfied grin.

Cloud tightens his fingers momentarily around Rufus’ neck. “Don’t be so sure.”

Rufus snickers a little, falling silent as he nuzzles into Cloud’s chest. They stay quiet as several minutes pass, the only sound in the room being Rufus’ shallow breaths.

“Do you think you could use the work project to draw them out somehow?” Cloud suggests, but Rufus is still. Looking down, he realizes the man has fallen asleep, finally, and he’s relieved on some level that now he can do the same. Reaching up to turn off his bedside lamp, he steals one last glance at the alluring creature in his arms, and just as he plunges the room into darkness he strokes the side of Rufus’ head, threading fingers through silken blond hair.

“ _Good night, Rufus,"_ he whispers, wondering exactly how and when the tables had turned. 

\---

Cloud must have fallen asleep almost immediately because he feels as though he merely blinked his eyes and it was morning. He’s groggy, though, like the sleep had been good, and other than the shifting of some arms and legs, neither of the men seem to have changed positions overnight.

Rufus is still sleeping soundly, to Cloud’s amusement, and he’s starting to view Rufus more like an overly clever teen than a grown man. He places his hand gently on the man’s head, trying not to wake him, but Rufus stirs regardless, his forearm brushing lightly over Cloud’s groin.

Cloud sighs audibly, peering down to see that he’s completely erect, though thankfully he’s not close enough to Rufus to press into him every time he pulses rebelliously. Now it’s all that he can focus on despite his best efforts to think of anything but the naked man clinging to his body.

_Shit._

Just as he’s thanking his lucky stars that Rufus is still unconscious, he feels the distinct pressure of fingers curling around his dick. He wonders how convincing he’d be if he pretends to be asleep.

“I see you’re _up already,_ ” Rufus coos, the rasp in his morning voice setting Cloud’s blood ablaze.

When he opens his eyes, Rufus is already looking up at him, a predatory smile creeping its way across his face. He strokes lazily at Cloud beneath the sheets, the only thing separating skin from skin being the worn fabric of Cloud’s sweatpants.

“You’re ridiculous,” Cloud says quietly, afraid that others may be up and about already.

Rufus rolls his neck left to right, stretching a bit before snaking his hand suddenly into Cloud’s pants. He jerks at the sudden contact.

“ _Rufus, stop_ ,” he whines nervously in spite of his arousal, clasping a hand over Rufus’ wrist. “It’s too…”

“Too _what?_ ” Rufus asks, loosening his grip but still intent on seduction. He rises, bracing himself with his other hand, looming over Cloud with lidded eyes. “Don’t you _want_ it?” he purrs through that same lethal grin that has paralyzed Cloud so many times in the past. He tilts his head to one side, disheveled hair falling free, exposing the marks on his neck and collarbone, plucking Cloud’s every string like a well-tuned instrument.

Cloud can’t find the right words to protest; can only keen low in his throat when Rufus squeezes him in his hand, and he can’t remember if this is the first time he’s touched him this way without a tight layer of leather between them.

“You don’t have to say _no_ , Cloud. Everyone will wake; we will go downstairs, chat like colleagues, eventually say our goodbyes. The others will eat their warm breakfast, get dressed, work, play, laugh. And none of them will know.” He descends to Cloud’s lips, deftly parting them with his tongue, eagerly seeking out the familiar heat of Cloud’s mouth. When he pulls away, he nips at Cloud’s lower lip. “No one has to know how many times I made you come.”

The next time Rufus tightens his fist, Cloud cants his hips up into it, lifting his head to bite Rufus on the shoulder languidly.

“ _Good,_ ” he sings happily, suddenly throwing a leg over Cloud’s body and sinking into his lap. He peels the sweatpants down just enough to reveal the bulk of Cloud’s erection, pressing his own down until the two of them are flush. Rufus clenches both of their cocks together in one hand, stroking them firmly as his hips begin a shallow grind.

Cloud is breathless, clutching his sheets on either side of himself with both hands. He’s not sure if it’s the bare flesh of Rufus’ hands or the fact that its morning, but he feels more sensitive than ever, nearing completion so quickly that he fears he may get light headed. Every last mark he placed on Rufus’ body is visible, as are his old scars, and that’s to say nothing of the sinewy muscles of his chest, arms, and abdomen, and the way they flex and coil and twitch with each rhythmic thrust of the hip or hand.

“You’re close, aren’t you,” Rufus asks, face flushed and so warm with adoration that Cloud moans in response.

“ _Yeah,_ ” he answers, suddenly aching to have Rufus’ lips pressed against his own. Placing a hand at the nape of his neck, Cloud drags him down into a kiss that almost throws Rufus off balance, his free hand darting forward to brace his heaving body on the bed. Cloud plunges his tongue inside Rufus’ mouth, causing him to dig his toes into the bed, jerking at their bare cocks hard and fast and pressing his hips into Cloud with enough force to hurt him.

Rufus moans suddenly into the kiss, and when Cloud can feel the warm spatter of come on his stomach, he’s launched headlong into his own orgasm, pulling away from Rufus to groan curses under his breath.

When he opens his eyes, Rufus towers above him, smiling.

“You’re fun to watch,” he teases, breathing heavily. “And now _you’re_ the mess.”

“So I am.”

Rufus throws his head back and laughs, open mouthed and loud, and if it wasn’t for the fact that it was intentionally raucous Cloud would be bewitched by it.

“ _Asshole,_ ” Cloud hisses as he tosses Rufus aside on the bed, vaulting up to make for the shower. Rufus chuckles low at Cloud as he shuts the bathroom door behind him, locking it for good measure.

He does need a shower, but even more importantly he needs just five seconds away from the fucking spellbinding eyes of Rufus Shinra.

 _Shit,_ he thinks to himself. _You need to snap back to reality._

After all, he’ll have to meet with Reeve and Barret again soon, and it’s just as Rufus said himself; eventually they’ll say their goodbyes to one another.

And no one will know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As is tradition; kudos appreciated, comments lusted after :3c
> 
> Thank you lovelies for reading! <3


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